THE 


CHAPEL  OF  ST.  MART. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF 


"THE  EECTORY  OP  MOKELAND," 


"  Common  aa  light  is  love, 
And  its  f«miliaT  voice  wearies  not  ever." 
SHELL 

'  Suffer  me  not,  in  any  want, 
To  seek  refreshment  from  a  plant 
Thou  didst  not  set ;  since  all  must  be 
Plucked  up  whose  growth  is  not  in  Thee." 


BOSTON: 
J.    E.    TILTOX    AND    COMPANY, 

161    WASHINGTON    STREET. 
1861. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1860,  by 

J.   E.    TILTON   AND   COMPANY, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


University  Press,  Cambridge  : 
Stereotyped  find  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co 


PREFACE. 


IT  is  well  known  that  through  the  State  of 
New  York,  and  indeed  in  parts  of  New  England, 
there  are  still  remnants  of  families  who  trace 
their  descent  from  the  original  inhabitants  of  the 
country.  They  are,  however,  rapidly  fading  away, 
or  mingling  with  those  about  them  till  their  iden- 
tity is  lost.  We  will  only  detain  the  reader  to 
say,  that  "  Chet,"  "  Papsy,"  and  the  "  Judge," 
in  their  appearance  and  peculiarities,  as  we  have 
painted  them,  are  not  visions  of  the  fancy,  but 
true  living  characters,  met  in  the  pathway  of  the 
writer. 

HILL-SIDE,  Easter. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I.                               PAO« 
MAPLE  CLIFF 9 

CHAPTER    II. 
AGATHA'S  HOME 14 

CHAPTER    III. 
HONORA  AND  GREGORY 19 

CHAPTER    IV. 
AGATHA  AND  PAPSY     .  .25 


CHAPTER    V. 
DICK  WALBRIDGE 


CHAPTER    VI. 
DANGEROUS  SOCIETY 36 

CHAPTER    VII. 
THE  REPROBATE  SON 46 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

THE  GOVERNESS    .  ,      57 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE  RIDGWAYS     .  .64 


Vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER     X. 
THE  Two  FRIENDS 70 

CHAPTER    XI. 
THE  GORGE 78 

CHAPTER    XII. 
AN  UNWELCOME  ENCOUNTER 86 

CHAPTER   XIII. 
THE  CRUSHED  HEART 95 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
A  VISIT  TO  THE  GORGE 102 

CHAPTER    XV. 
GREGORY  AND  AGATHA  .    112 


CHAPTER    XVI. 
THE  JUDGE 121 

CHAPTER    XVII. 
THE  LADIES'  SEWING  SOCIETY 127 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 
WORK 136 

CHAPTER    XIX. 
WARNING 142 

CHAPTER    XX. 
THE  PRODIGAL 151 

CHAPTER    XXI. 
PAPSY  AN  OUTCAST 159 

CHAPTER    XXII. 
GOSSIP  170 


CONTENTS.  vii 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 
WALTON  AN  INVALID 177 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 
CHAUNCEY  AND  CHARLOTTE 185 

CHAPTER    XXV. 
AGATHA'S  OUTBREAK 194 

CHAPTER    XXVI. 
THE  ARTIST'S  STORY 204 

CHAPTER    XXVII. 
THE  FERGUSONS 211 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

ISABELLE  WINCHESTER  .    217 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 
A  MYSTERIOUS  DISAPPEARANCE 227 

CHAPTER    XXX. 
YILLANY  UNSUCCESSFUL 236 

CHAPTER   XXXI. 
MATTERS  AT  ROCKRIDGE •  247 

CHAPTER    XXXII. 
THE  DISCOVERY 253 

CHAPTER    XXXIII. 
THE  COQUETTE 260 

CHAPTER    XXXIV. 
PIERRE  MCLELLAN 267 

CHAPTER    XXXV. 
SELF-CONQUEST     .....        274 


Viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

THE  MASTER  OF  MAPLE  CLIFF  .        .        .        .        .        .        .283 

CHAPTER    XXXVII. 
THE  SERENADE 291 

CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 
THE  FISHING  EXCURSION 297 

CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

THE  OFFER  REJECTED  .        .        .    309 


CHAPTER    XL. 

THE  EECTOR'S  MARRIAGE    . 


CHAPTER    XLI. 

ST.  ANNE'S     . 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

RETURN  TO  MAPLE  CLIFF 334 

CHAPTER    XLIII. 
A  VISIT  TO  OAK  BAY 345 

CHAPTER    XLIV. 
UNWELCOME  VISITORS 355 

CHAPTER    XLV. 
GREGORY'S  STOKY  .    363 


CHAPTER    XLVI. 
MERITED  WRATH 373 

CHAPTER    XLVII. 
FESTIVAL  OF  ALL  SAINTS  382 

CHAPTER    XLVIII. 
CHANGES  AND  CHANCES 


THE 


CHAPEL    OF    ST.   MARY 


CHAPTER    I. 

MAPLE   CLIFF. 

"  The  year 

On  the  earth,  her  death-bed,  hi  a  shroud  of  leaves  dead 
Is  lying."  SHELLEY. 

"  Things  like  him  must  sting, 
And  higher  beings  suffer,  —  't  is  the  charter  of  life." 

BYRON. 

THE  BRIGHT,  old-fashioned  wood  fire  burned 
briskly  on  the  hearth  at  Maple  Cliff.  The  scene 
without  was  dismal ;  the  wind  sighed  through  the  beech 
and  maple  trees,  that  spread  their  arms  and  dropped 
their  richly  tinted  autumn  leaves  over  the  roof,  and 
the  clouds  looked  angry  and  sullen,  as  they  flew  swiftly 
across  the  face  of  the  waning  moon.  It  was  a  chilly 
November  night,  and  the  occupants  of  the  library  drew 
nearer  the  fire. 

1* 


10  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  a  faint,  timid  voice,  "that 
the  child  would  be  happier  —  more  contented,  certainly 
—  if  you  waited  till  spring  before  bringing  her  here." 

"  If  she  comes  here,  Madam,"  was  the  stern  reply,  it 
is  for  winter  and  summer,  and  I  would  have  her  know 
the  worst,  which  will  by  no  means  be  the  outer  winter." 

The  timid  voice  again  ventured.  "Why  not  take 
two  of  your  brother's  children,  they  would  be  com- 
pany for  each  other?" 

*  "  Madam !  when  your  suggestions  are  needed  I  will 
call  for  them.  I  have  made  up  my  mind.  The  hope 
of  a  family  of  my  own  has  disappeared,  and  from  my 
brother's  six  I  shall  take  the  second  daughter.  Boys 
leave  home  as  soon  as  they  begin  to  realize  one's 
hopes ;  besides,  a  pleasant  female  influence  is  much 
needed  at  Maple  Cliff." 

There  was  no  reply. 

Of  the  early  days  of  Rodney  Douglass  we  have 
but  little  to  say ;  now  he  was  "  past  meridian,"  the 
owner  of  large  landed  property  in  the  village  of  Rock- 
ridge,  without  an  heir  to  inherit  his  name  or  wealth. 
From  active  business  life,  Mr.  Douglass  had  settled 
himself  in  the  old  family  homestead,  a  stern,  severe  man, 


MATLE    CLIFF.  11 

without  any  of  that  genial  warm-heartedness  so  attrac- 
tive in  a  "  green  old  age."  His  wife,  naturally  gentle 
and  affectionate,  had  been  subdued,  by  a  life  of  little 
daily  severities,  into  a  reserved,  timid  woman.  She  had 
stepped  out  of  her  habitual  routine  of  silent  acqui- 
escence in  making  the  suggestions  mentioned  in  the 
commencement  of  the  chapter ;  now  she  sunk  back  into 
her  richly-cushioned  chair,  and  resumed  her  usual  piti- 
able expression ;  while  her  "  liege  lord "  continued  his 
soliloquy. 

"I  go  to  Boston  to-morrow,  and  shall  return  in  a 
day  or  two  with  the  child.  It  is  my  determination 
to  make  my  choice  of  the  family,  and  that  choice 
will  be  Agatha.  She  is  thirteen  or  thereabouts,  past 
the  age  of  childhood.  I  have  seen  her  but  once :  inter- 
course with  my  brother  has  never  been  satisfactory,  and 
I  shall  provide  that  there  be  communication  but  sel- 
dom, if  at  all,  between  the  child  and  those  she  leaves ; 
indeed,  there  will  be  but  little  danger  of  that,  as  my 
brother  is  bound  for  California  with  his  family  the  first 
good  opening.  But  I  wish  you  to  understand,  Mrs. 
Douglass,"  he  added,  raising  his  voice,  "that  there  is 
to  be  no  acquaintance  formed  by  the  child  with  the 


12  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MAKY. 

people  in  the  village.  Colonel  Clarendon's  family  and 
our  Rector's  are  exceptions ;  but  out  of  these,  she  is 
not  to  know  the  people  of  Rockridge." 

The  frightened  wife  made  no  reply  to  this  harsh  re- 
striction, till  the  tall,  gaunt  figure  of  her  husband  stood 
before  her,  and,  peering  into  her  face  with  his  cold, 
gray  eye,  and  raising  his  forefinger  in  a  menacing  atti- 
tude, he  whispered,  "  Am  I  understood  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  replied  she,  nervously  shrink- 
ing from  his  gaze,  and  trying  to  smile.  "Agatha,  Aga- 
tha! did  you  say?  Isn't  that  a  singular  name?" 

"  It  was  my  mother's  name,"  replied  he,  sternly,  and 
she  was  one*  I  ever  found  worthy  of  my  love." 

To  his  brother's  house  Rodney  Douglass  took  his 
way,  through  the  narrow,  irregular  streets  at  the  "north 
part  of  the  city  of  Boston,  famih'arly  known  as  "  North 
End."  Now  and  then  the  proud  man  would  draw  him- 
self up  to  avoid  touching  some  person  or  thing  in  his 
way,  exclaiming  against  the  filth  of  the  city.  At  length 
he  paused  before  a  small  brick  tenement,  which  had 
the  name  "  Sidney  Douglass "  unmistakably  engraven 
on  the  brass  plate.  The  brothers  met  as  if  they  had 
parted  but  yesterday,  when  in  truth  ten  suns  had  sped 


MAPLE    CLIFF.  13 

their  annual  round  since  they  had  clasped  hands.  How 
true  is  it  that  prosperous  life  often  eats  out  the  heart, 
and  makes  those  who  have  slept  in  the  same  mother's 
bosom  almost  strangers ! 

Sidney  Douglass  and  wife  belonged  to  that  ever  in- 
creasing class  in  society  whose  life  and  thoughts  are 
wholly  directed  to  making  money ;  therefore  they  were 
about  to  leave  a  situation  where  they  had  a  comforta- 
ble living,  with  privileges  of  church,  school,  and  society, 
for  the  then  unknown  regions  of  "gold  digging." 

The  tempting  offer  to  make  one  of  their  children  sole 
heiress  to  a  large  estate,  upon  condition  of  their  re- 
nouncing their  rights  as  parents,  was  accepted  almost 
eagerly,  and  Rodney  Douglass  became  the  lawful  father, 
by  adoption,  of  his  niece  Agatha.  Yes,  she  was  sold 
for  a  certain  number  of  acres,  and  a  certain  amount  of 
bank-stock ;  separated  from  the  sympathies  of  her  child- 
hood, and  carried  hundreds  of  miles,  to  new  faces  and 
new  scenes. 


14  THE    CHAPEL    OF   ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    II. 

AGATHA'S   HOME. 

"Strange  is  it  that  our  bloods, 
In  color,  weight,  and  heat  poured  all  together, 
Would  confound  distinction,  yet  stand  off 
In  differences  so  mighty." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

THE  OLD  family  mansion  of  Mr.  Douglass,  the 
Wuture  home  of  Agatha,  \vas  built  by  the  Eng- 
lish ancestor,  three  generations  before  the  present  oc- 
cupant. It  had  the  appearance  of  a  manor-house,  with 
its  long,  irregular  wings,  ample  dimensions,  and  sub- 
stantial walls.  The  place  had  always  been  known  in 
the  region  as  "Maple  Cliff."  Below,  at  the  distance 
of  less  than  half  a  mile,  lay  the  village  of  Rockridge, 
resting  on  the  bosom  of  a  large  river,  that  had  its 
source  among  the  range  of  mountains  in  the  western 
border  of  New  England.  Woodland  Bluff  (the  resi- 
dence of  the  nearest  neighbor,  Colonel  Clarendon),  with 


AGATHA'S    HOME.  15 

its  embowered  cottage,  was  in  full  view  from  Maple 
Cliff,  on  the  other  side  of  the  stage  road  that  sepa 
rated  the  two  estates.  The  right  wing  of  the  Douglass 
homestead  contained  the  rooms  that  had  been  appro- 
priated to  the  newly  adopted  daughter,  and  the  win 
dows  overlooked  the  wooded  bluff,  and  the  village  and 
valley  beyond.  Perhaps  it  was  fortunate  for  Agatha 
that  her  affections,  in  their  depth  and  capabilities,  had 
never  been  brought  out  in  the  home  she  had  left. 
Her  first  tears  were  shed  as  she  sat  in  her  little  dress- 
ing-room on  Sunday  afternoon,  looking  into  the  quiet 
street,  and  wishing  she  had  some  one  to  whym  she 
could  speak.  She  had  been  in  her  new  hom<I||hree 
days,  and  had  made  acquaintance  with  the  groom,  sta- 
ble-boy, and  Papsy,  a  sort  of  hanger-on,  and  "maid 
of  all  work "  when  she  chose  to  be.  It  was  something 
quite  new  and  pleasant  to  be  called  "Miss  Agatha," 
and  to  be  treated  with  deference  by  the  servants.  At 
home  they  had  but  one  domestic,  and  she  was  always 
so  cross  and  worn  with  hard  work,  that  Agatha  was 
glad  to  escape  from  the  kitchen:  at  Maple  Cuff  that 
part  of  the  establishment  outnumbered  the  parlor,  and 
she  found  herself  always  welcome.  But  Sunday  even- 


16  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

ing  was  their  holiday,  —  they  were  all  gone,  and  the 
little  girl  leaned  her  head  on  her  hand  while  the  tears 
fell  fast  She  started  as  a  shadow  crossed  her  vision, 
knowing  that  her  rooms  were  on  the  second  floor ;  but 
when  she  saw  the  yellow  fingers  of  Papsy,  lifting  her- 
self by  the  pillars  of  the  balcony,  her  tears  were 
changed  to  smiles,  and  the  welcome  guest  raised  the 
window  and  stepped  into  the  room. 

Papsy  was  not  an  African,  neither  was  she  an  In- 
dian, though  some  of  her  ancestry  were  of  both  these 
races.  She  was  tall,  and  straight  as  an  arrow,  with 
high  cheek-bones  and  a  tawny  skin,  but  her  hair  was 
^  brown,  and  her  eyes  a  dark  gray.  The  only  trace  of 
African  blood  was  in  her  full  lips  and  pearly  teeth. 
The  mantling  color  that  rose  to  her  cheek,  the  broad 
forehead,  and  the  form  and  color  of  the  eye,  betrayed 
a  mingling  of  the  more  fortunate  Anglo-Saxon  race. 
She  belonged  to  a  family  who,  in  some  of  its  mem- 
bers, had  served  in  the  Douglass  household  from  the 
time  when  New  England  had  slaves  within  her  bor- 
ders; but  she  inherited  the  spirit  of  the  race  that 
"has  never  been  held  hi  bondage,"  and  all  the  disci- 
pline of  Maple  Cliff  (and  rumor  said  it  was  very 


AGATHA'S    HOME.  17 

unsparing)  could  not  tame  the  remnants  of  the  wild 
Indian  blood  that  coursed  through  the  veins  of  Papsy. 
She  had  but  one  excuse  for  all  her  wickedness,  —  "It 
is  this  pizin  mixture,"  referring  to  her  mixed  descent. 
She  had  an  odd  way  of  talking  in  disconnected  sen- 
tences, rarely  putting  more  than  three  or  four  words 
together.  Two  years  older  than  Agatha,  she  had  al- 
ready contrived  to  make  herself  interesting  to  her  "lit- 
tle missis,"  as  she  chose  to  call  her. 

"  Homesick,  little  missis  ?  "  she  said  inquiringly,  when 
she  saw  the  traces  of  Agatha's  tears.  "  Thought  so,  — 
poor  thing,  —  lonesome  here,  —  go  with  Papsy, — 
white  turkey  gone,  —  hunt  her  up." 

No  urging  was  necessary,  neither  did  the  little  girl 
remember  that  she  had  no  permission  for  the  walk. 
Daylight  faded  away,  and  the  stars  came  out;  the  ser- 
vants one  by  one  returned  to  Maple  Cliff,  but  noth- 
ing was  seen  of  Agatha  and  Papsy.  Mr.  Douglass 
rebuked  his  wife  in  the  sternest  manner  for  her  in- 
attention in  not  informing  herself  of  Agatha's  where- 
abouts. As  the  evening  advanced,  a  servant  was  de- 
spatched to  seek  intelligence  of  the  child.  Young  Mr. 
Clarendon  remembered  to  have  seen  the  missing  pair 

B 


18  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

entering    Elder    Sparks's   meeting-house,  as   he   passed 
to  a  third  service  in  the  valley  below. 

Before  Pat's  return  with  this  information,  the  voice 
of  Papsy  was  heard,  as  she  came  up  the  avenue  to- 
ward the  house,  singing,  "O  Canaan,  bright  Canaan." 
If  harsh  words  and  severity  could  have  helped  her  on 
her  way  to  that  happy  land,  she  would  have  been 
some  distance  on  the  road  that  night.  Agatha's  dreams 
were  a  mingling  of  singing  and  crying,  and  above  all 
the  stern  voice  of  her  uncle,  as  he  said,  "  Go  to  your 
room,  child,  and  don't  leave  it  again  till  I  send  for 
vou." 


HONOBA    AND    GREGORY.  19 


CHAPTER    III. 

HONORA  AND   GREGORY. 

Her  soul  was  like  a  beehive  built  of  glass, 
And  you  could  see  her  sweet  thoughts,  every  one 
Like  honey-bees  at  work;  for  sweetness  she 
From  everything  extracted,  and  to  all 
Dispensed  it;  never  niggard  of  her  stores, 
Which  more  for  others  than  herself  she  kept 
Within  that  hive  of  honey-thoughts,  —  her  heart." 

COURT  JOURNAL. 


WAS  Mr.  Douglass's  niece  in  his  pew  yes- 
I  terday,  Honora,"  said  Colonel  Clarendon  to  his 
daughter,  as  she  wheeled  his  comfortable  arm-chair  to- 
ward the  fire.  "  Do  go  over,  this  pleasant  morning, 
and  see  if  you  can't  do  something  for  the  child;  her 
sad  face  haunts  me." 

"Yes,  sister,"  said  Gregory  Clarendon,  rising  as  his 
father  spoke,  "let  us  go  over,  and  rescue  this  forlorn 
child  from  that  imp  of  darkness  who  bids  fair  to  be 
her  chief  friend." 


20  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  Please  don't  speak  so  of  Papsy,  brother,"  said 
Honora,  laying  her  hand  on  his  shoulder ;  "  she  is  a 
Sunday-scholar  of  mine." 

"  She  does  you  credit,  Honora !  She  should  be  in  a 
House  for  Juvenile  Offenders.  She  will  ruin  that  little 
girl,  if  they  are  left  to  run  together  in  this  way." 

"  The  child  of  Mr.  Douglass's  adoption ! "  he  added 
impatiently  as  they  walked  out,  — "  how  much  better  is 
it,  sister,  at  Maple  Cliff  than  with  the  '  Sisters  of 
Charity '  ?  It  would  not  take  me  many  hours  to  choose 
between  these  two  states  of  life,  if  I  had  a  protegee 
to  provide  with  a  home." 

Honora  smiled  reluctantly,  but  did  not  reply. 

The  call  was  more  satisfactory  than  might  have  been 
expected.  Mi-.  Douglass  entertained  a  high  respect  for 
Colonel  Clarendon's  family,  and  they  were  always  wel- 
comed at  Maple  Cliff.  Agatha  was  summoned  from 
her  room,  where  she  had  remained  in  obedience  to  her 
uncle's  commands,  to  meet  Miss  Clarendon  and  her 
brother. 

Rodney  Douglass  saw  in  his  adopted  daughter  the 
reflection  of  his  own  spirit,  in  her  flashing  eyes  and 
deepening  color,  and  the  cold,  haughty  tone  in  which 


HONORA    AND    GREGORY.  21 

she  replied  to  his  questioning.  The  reproaches  of  yes- 
terday were  rankling  in  her  young  heart. 

"  Douglass  has  his  match,"  said  young  Clarendon  as 
they  left  the  house.  "  I  only  wish  it  was  the  first  in- 
stead of  the  last  week  of  my  vacation,  that  I  might 
make  the  acquaintance  of  this  little  Miss,  and  note 
progress  between  her  and  her  adopted  father.  '  Iron 
sharpeneth  iron.' " 

"  But  there  is  something  touchingly  lovely  about  the 
child,  with  all  her  pride,"  said  his  sister.  "How  I  did 
long  to  fold  her  to  my  heart,  and  offer  that  sympathy 
she  so  much  needs !  She  has  deep  feeling,  one  can  see 
in  her  large  thoughtful  eyes.  A  young  heart  is  easily 
crushed  or  hardened  by  want  of  sympathy.  What 
cause  of  thankfulness  we  have,  that  our  dear  father 
is  so  full  of  tenderness  for  us,  since  we  can  hardly  re- 
member our  mother's  love !  " 

"Yes,"  replied  the  young  man,  "but  I  cannot  talk 
to  father  as  I  do  to  you.  I  cannot  go  to  him,  with 
my  doubts  and  struggles  with  unbelief,  as  I  can  come 
to  you." 

"  And  have  you,  my  dear  brother,  done  as  your  duty 
requires,  and  sought  counsel  of  your  pastor  ?  " 


22  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"Yes,  Honora,  to  please  you  I  did.  What  comfort 
could  I  expect  from  the  immaculate  perfection  of  Dr. 
Walbridge !  Himself  too  upright,  too  formal,  and  un- 
wavering, ever  to  suffer  a  doubt !  How  could  he  look 
with  any  kindness  upon  one  devoted  prospectively  to 
the  ministry,  who  is  full  of  uncertainties  ?  When  I 
gave  the  secret  chamber  of  my  soul  to  his  gaze,  what 
do  you  think  he  said  ?  k  He  could  not  conceive  of 
such  a  state  of  feeling ! '  You  may  suppose  I  derived 
much  benefit  and  satisfaction  from  the  interview." 

"  But,  Gregory,"  replied  his  sister,  a  shade  of  gentle 
reproof  mingling  with  the  sweet  tones  of  her  voice, 
"  he  is  our  pastor,  devoted,  humble-minded,  and  as  such 
we  owe  him  respect.  But  after  all,  there  is  but  One 
who  can  keep  you  in  the  right  way,  and  guide  you 
into  all  truth.  Seek  that  guidance,  and  you  will  yet 
see  clearly." 

*  #  *  *  * 

Colonel  Clarendon  was  a  retired  officer  of  the  United 
States  army.  Having  been  severely  wounded  in  a 
skirmish  with  our  border  Indians,  he  had  left  the 
service,  and  with  his  only  son  and  daughter,  and  a 
maiden  sister  as  housekeeper,  he.  had  retired  to  his 
small  paternal  estate  in  Rockridge. 


HONORA    AND    GREGORY.  23 

Honora  Clarendon  at  the  time  our  story  opens  was 
not  on  the  list  of  very  young  ladies,  having  already 
passed  her  twenty-eighth  year.  Her  life  had  not  been 
unmarked  by  sorrow,  as  might  be  gathered  from  the 
unvarying  hue  of  her  black  dress,  and  the  subdued  and 
chastened  character  of  her  smile,  and  the  somewhat 
pensive  tone  of  her  voice. 

In  her  early  youth  she  had  been  betrothed  to  a 
lieutenant  in  her  father's  regiment.  The  tune  was 
fixed  for  her  marriage  with  the  brave  Norman  Wood; 
but  he  had  fallen,  in  the  same  engagement  in  which 
her  father  had  been  wounded.  Her  deep,  unspoken 
grief  worked  out  its  proper  end,  and  wherever  suffer- 
ing or  distress  were  to  be  met  in  her  region,  she  was 
there  with  her  angel-like  presence.  She  was  several 
years  older  than  her  brother,  who  looked  upon  her  as 
the  personification  of  goodness.  Whether  she  was  beau- 
tiful no  one  asked,  for  there  was  a  depth  of  soul  beam- 
ing out  from  those  pensive  eyes,  and  a  wealth  of  love 
in  that  benevolent  mouth,  that  was  magnetic. 

Gregory  had  grown  up  a  serious-minded  boy,  under 
the  careful  training  of  a  judicious  father,  and  gave  prom- 
ise, now  he  had  reached  the  estate  of  manhood,  that 


24  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

the  fondest  wish  of  the  paternal  heart  would  one  day 
be  realized,  and  Colonel  Clarendon  would  see  his  son 
a  clergyman. 

During  his  college  life  he  had  roomed  with  a  young 
man  from  New  Orleans,  a  member  of  a  Roman  Catho- 
lic family,  earnest-minded  and  zealous.  They  had  be- 
come warmly  attached  as  friends,  and  it  was  natural 
that  each  should  strive  for  the  conversion  of  the  other 
to  what  he  deemed  the  true  faith.  Pierre  McLellan 
saw  Father  Eustace  often,  and  was  commended  and 
counselled  in  his  efforts  for  the  conversion  of  the  here- 
tic by  that  wily  Jesuit,  while  Clarendon  met  his  antag- 
onist uncounselled  and  unadvised.  Night  after  night 
they  sought  to  vanquish  each  other,  and  spent  hours 
that  should  have  been  given  to  study  in  discussing 
theological  dogmas  and  practices.  These  "talks"  had 
had  their  effect  on  the  ardent  mind  of  Clarendon ;  they 
had  served  the  first  purpose  of  their  instigator,  and 
planted  difficulties  where  before  all  was  plain. 

Gregory  had  fully  opened  his  mind  to  his  sister,  and 
through  her  influence  to  his  pastor,  and  he  returned  to 
college  for  his  last  year  with  the  feeling  that  at  least 
he  must  never  seek  the  ministry  till  his  doubts  were 
settled. 


AGATHA    AND    PAPSY.  25 


CHAPTER    IY. 

AGATHA  AND  PAPSY. 

"  An  unlessoned  girl,  unschooled,  unpractised; 
Happy  in  this,  that  she  is  not  so  old 
But  she  may  learn;  and  happier  in  this, 
She  is  not  bred  so  dull  but  she  may  learn; 
Happiest  in  all,  that  her  gentle  spirit 
Commits  itself- to  yours  to  be  directed." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

«T\O,    MISS    NORA,"    said    Papsy,    industriously 

J_/  brushing  the  front  piazza,  as  Miss  Clarendon 
came  up  the  steps  at  Maple  Cliff,  the  day  after  her 
brother's  departure  for  New  Haven. 

"  Good  morning,  Papsy,"  Miss  Honora  replied,  put- 
ting out  her  hand,  to  take  the  yellow  one  that  was 
extended  to  meet  hers;  "how  are  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Doug- 
lass, and  Miss  Agatha?" 

"  Mister  gone  to  town,  —  little  missis  homesick,  — 
master  scold  her,  —  cry  all  night." 

"  Homesick  is  she  ? "  said  Honora ; "  we  must  try  to 
2 


26  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

comfort  her.  But  I  did  not  see  you  at  Sunday  school 
last  Sunday  evening." 

"  O  Miss  Nora,  I  tired,  —  sleepy,  —  Dr.  Walbridge 
preach  so  long,  —  I  go  to  bed." 

Honora  was  somewhat  startled  by  this  downright 
falsehood,  and  remembered  Gregory's  remark  that 
"  Papsy  did  credit  to  her  Sunday-school  teacher : " 
but  this  was  not  the  time  to  correct  her  fault ;  she 
therefore  passed  into  the  hall.  She  found  Agatha  bur- 
ied in  the  pillows  of  a  lounge,  in  the  library,  devour- 
ing with  avidity  the  contents  of  a  very  ancient-looking 
book.  She  blushed  when  Honora  entered,  and  hid  the 
book  hastily,  but,  soon  recovering  herself,  she  did  the 
honors  of  the  house  very  properly.  It  was  not  long 
before  Honora,  with  her  sweet  winning  ways,  found  an 
entrance  into  the  child's  heart,  ^and  a  friendship  was 
established  which  was  never  broken,  a  friendship  worth 
more  to  Agatha  than  all  her  landed  prospects  of  Ma- 
ple Cliff.  They  sat  together  nearly  an  hour,  when 
Mrs.  Douglass's  cat-like  step  was  heard,  and  that  lady 
made  her  appearance,  looking  cautiously  round  the 
room,  as  if  she  expected  to  meet  some  dreaded  object. 
Honora  made  known  her  errand,  which  was  to  bring 


AGATHA    AND    PAPSY.  27 

Agatha  to  Woodland  Bluff,  to  pass  the  day.  Mrs. 
Douglass  stammered  in  her  reply,  not  daring  to  give 
permission  in  the  absence  of  Mr.  Douglass.  The  child 
signified  by  her  manner  that  she  would  willingly  go 
without  his  leave ;  but  Honora  said  gently,  "  Well,  if 
you  cannot  go  with  me  to-day,  I  can  stay  part  of  the 
day  with  you,  and  we  will  have  your  visit  another 
time."  This  arrangement  satisfied  all  parties,  and 
Honora  made  herself  quite  at  home  with  Agatha,  ex- 
plaining to  her  the  beautiful  paintings  that  hung  about 
the  walls ;  playing  battledoor  with  the  child  one  mo- 
ment, and  waltzes  for  her  to  dance  the  next.  Child- 
like, Agatha  was  desirous  her  companion  should  see  the 
pleasant  rooms  she  called  her  own.  They  consisted  of 
a  large,  airy  bedchamber,  and  a  pretty  dressing-room 
attached,  furnished  with  everything  for  comfort.  The 
first  thing  that  met  the  eye  of  her  visitor  was  a  heap 
of  old  musty  volumes  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  a  recent 
importation  from  some  secret  hiding-place.  They  were 
evidently  mates  to  the  book  in  which  Agatha  was  so 
deeply  interested  when  Honora  came  into  the  library. 
"0,  I  forgot  these  old  books!"  said  Agatha,  blush- 
ing crimson,  arid  ringing  the  bell  violently. 


28  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"What  are  they?"  said  Honora,  taking  up  one  that 
looked  as  if  it  might  have  amused  the  leisure  hours 
of  Noah  and  his  family  ;  it  was  « The  Mysteries  of 
Udolpho."  "  Did  you  intend  to  read  them  ? "  she  add- 
ed, taking  up  another ;  it  was  "  The  Monk." 

"  I  was  going  to  look  them  over,"  said  Agatlrn,  hes- 
itating. "  There  is  nothing  in  the  library  but  old  law- 
books  and  histories,  with  a  few  memoirs  of  good  peo- 
ple, that  I  hate  to  read.  At  home,  father  let  us  take 
books  from  the  circulating  library,  but  Aunt  Douglass 
says  there  is  none  here." 

"  I  would  n't  read  these,"  replied  Honora,  persua- 
sively, brushing  the  dust  from  her  fingers ;  "  we  have 
plenty  of  nice  books  at  "Woodland  Bluff,  and  you  may 
take  any  of  them  you  please ;  and  then  we  luiA'e  a 
parish  library,  and  a  Sunday-school  library,  full  of  in- 
teresting books  for  children.  Let  Papsy  put  these  up 
where  you  found  them,  will  you  dear  ?  "  she  added,  as 
the  tall  form  of  Papsy  came  stalking  in. 

"  The  chambermaid,  Belinda,  told  me  of  them,"  said 
Agatha,  almost  weeping  at  the  thoughts  of  losing  her 
new-found  treasure.  "  She  said  she  had  read  them  all." 

"  Heaps   on   um,  and   more  besides,"  said  Papsy,  — 


AGATHA    AND    PAPSY.  29 

"  chock  full,  —  noveltry  readin',  —  Elder  Sparks's  dam- 
nation literature."  Papsy  took  the  heap  of  contraband 
volumes  into  her  apron,  and  was  off,  with  a  very  sober 
face  to  Miss  Clarendon,  and  a  sly  wink  to  Agatha, 
which  said  plainly,  "  Get  um  agin,  little  missis." 

"What  a  funny  thing  Papsy  is!"  said  the  child. 
"  She  is  n't  negro,  and  she  is  n't  white.  I  asked  her 
what  she  called  herself,  and  she  said,  '  Pizin  mixture.' 
She  is  very  kind  to  me,  though,  and  I  like  her.  Aunt 
Douglass  thinks  I  ought  not  to  go  with  her  so  much, 
but  I  will." 

Honora*  put  her  hand  gently  over  the  pouting  lips, 
and,  taking  the  little  head  lovingly  on  her  breast,  she 
said,  "  Papsy  is  a  poor  unfortunate  girl,  and  you  may 
do  her  much  good,  both  by  example  and  precept,  and 
you  will  always  be  kind  and  gentle  to  her ;  but  she  is 
not  exactly  suited  for  an  intimate  companion  for  my 
little  Agatha." 

Thus  Honora  conversed  with  the  child,  gaining  her 
confidence  and  her  love,  and  Agatha  sank  to  sleep 
that  night  more  peacefully  than  she  had  done.  She 
had  found  a  friend. 


30  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    V. 

I 

DICK    WALBRIDGE. 

"  But  when  to  mischief  mortals  bend  their  will, 
How  soon  they  find  fit  instruments  of  ill!  " 

POPE. 

WEEKS  AND  months  passed,  and  Agatha  was  al- 
lowed to  go  freely  to  Colonel  Clarendon's.  Her 
nature,  naturally  joyous  and  affectionate,  was  brought 
out  from  the  sullen  pride  in  which  it  had  at  first  con- 
cealed itself.  Papsy  was  restored  to  her  master's  fa- 
vor ;  she  was  ever  treated  by  him  as  a  favorite  span- 
iel would  have  been,  now  a  kick,  and  now  a  caress. 
There  was  apparently  the  same  attraction  as  between 
the  dog  and  his  master.  Mr.  Douglass,  though  often 
severe  in  his  treatment  of  her,  would  never  suffer  any 
other  member  of  the  family  to  reproVe  her  or  com- 
plain of  her.  This  course  naturally  gave  Papsy  a  kind 
of  slavish  affection  for  Mr. '  Douglass. 

It  happened,   one   morning  in  early  spring,  that  she 


DICK    WALBRIDGE.  31 

was  appointed  to  go  into  a  meadow,  which  lay  beyond 
the  house,  in  search  of  dandelions  for  the  table.  She 
gave  a  sly  wink  to  Agatha,  and,  drawing  down  her 
face,  gravely  asked  permission  of  Mrs.  Douglass  for 
the  little  girl's  company. 

The  mistress  of  the  house  hesitated,  daring  neither 
to  consent  nor  refuse ;  however,  she  thought  Mr.  Doug- 
lass might  object,  as  the  grass  was  wet,  and  Agatha  had 
a  slight  cold.  The  hall  door  opened  at  this  moment, 
and  the  sharp,  spectacled  eyes  of  the  master  peered 
into  the  kitchen.  His  wife  shrunk  back,  as  he  said,  in 
his  usual  harsh  tones,  "  Let  the  child  go.  Do  you  wish 
to  deprive  her  of  free  air,  and  sunshine  ? " 

They  went  into  the  fields  together.  Spring,  in  her 
morning  dress  of  emerald-green,  bestudded  with  violets, 
was  passing  lovely.  The  contrast  between  the  youth- 
ful pair  was  striking,  so  much  so  as  to  keep  Mr.  Doug- 
lass at  the  h'brary  window,  watching  them  till  a  turn 
in  the  brook,  and  a  patch  of  woods,  concealed  them 
from  view. 

Papsy  had  the  Indian  tread,  erect,  firm,  and  rapid ; 
while  Agatha  tripped  along  gracefully  as  a  fawn,  her 
slight  figure,  pure  red  and  white  skin,  auburn  curls, 


32  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

and  delicate  hands  and  feet  manifesting  her  true  Saxon 
descent. 

They  proceeded  rapidly,  Papsy  carrying  a  basket, 
and  brandishing  the  knife  with  which  she  was  to  cut 
up  the  plants,  at  the  same  time  singing,  in  a  melodious 
and  powerful  voice,  "Farewell,  my  friends,  I  must  be 
gone."  At  length  they  came  to  a  piece  of  ground,  on 
the  border  of  the  wood,  thickly  sprinkled  with  the  golden 
flowers  they  were  seeking.  Very  industriously  they  com- 
menced work,  Papsy  cutting  up  the  plants,  which  Aga- 
tha deposited  in  the  basket.  They  had  nearly  finished 
their  task,  when  a  sound  of  footsteps  was  heard  among 
the  dry  leaves,  and  presently  a  young  man,  whom 
Agatha  had  never  seen,  approached  them.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  brown  hunting-coat,  a  rifle  on  his  shoul- 
der, and  a  game-bag  by  his  side. 

"  Dick  Walbridge,  little  missis,"  whispered  Papsy, 
without  once  looking  up  from  her  employment.  The 
stranger  came  near,  touched  his  hat  to  Agatha,  and 
looked  knowingly  at  her  companion. 

"  I  thought  I  would  find  you  here,  Pap,"  he  said  fa- 
miliarly ;  "  Miss  Douglass,  I  presume,"  he  added,  look- 
ing at  Agatha.  "  What 's  the  matter,"  he  said,  seeing 


DICK    WALBRIDGE.  33 

the  color  mounting  into  Papsy's  cheek,  and  an  angry 
look  overshadow  her  brow.  "Why  didn't  you  come  to 
meeting,  last  night?  We  missed  your  voice.  Elder 
Sparks  gave  us  one  of  his  sparkling  discourses.  He 
put  into  father,  and  you  church  folks." 

"  Better  mind  his  own  business,"  sulkily  answered  the 
girl. 

"  The  Ridgway s  were  there,  —  mother  and  daugh- 
ters." 

"  Dare  say,  smooth-faced  hypocrites  !  "  muttered  Papsy. 

"  He  thanked  Heaven,"  continued  the  young  man, 
"  that  the  son  of  one  of  the  followers  of  '  the  Scarlet 
Lady'  had  seen  the  error  of  his  ways,  and  mentioned 
several  excellent  qualities,  in  his  recommendation  of  me 
to  the  notice  of  Heaven,  which  I  was  not  aware  of 
possessing." 

"Ugh,"  was  all  the  reply. 

Agatha  was  diligently  thinking,  who  "  the  Scarlet  La- 
dy "  could  be.  So  far  from  the  religious  discussions  of 
the  day  had  she  been  kept,  not  by  the  care,  but  by  the 
indifference  of  her  parents,  that  she  had  not  even  heard 
of  her  ladyship. 

Papsy  took  up  the  basket  and  knife,  and  turned  home- 
2*  c 


34  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

ward,  without  another  word  to  the  young  man.  They 
had  gone  but  a  short  distance,  when  Mr.  "Walbridge 
called  out,  "  I  saw  Chet  last  night,  and  I  have  a  message 
for  you."  The  girl  turned  and  walked  slowly  back  to 
where  he  stood,  and  they  conversed  together  for  some 
tune,  in  a  familiar  and  earnest  manner. 

Agatha  continued  her  walk  toward  home,  but  was 
overtaken  by  her  companion  before  she  came  to  the 
turn  in  the  brook. 

"  Was  that  Dr.  "Walbridge's  son,  Papsy  ?  "  asked  Aga- 
tha. 

"  Y.es,  Dick  "Walbridge,  —  wicked  wretch,  —  breaking 
his  poor  father's  heart,"  she  replied,  with  a  very  sober 
face,  and  immediately  struck  into  the  tune  where  she 
had  been  interrupted,  "  Where  is  now  the  good  old  'Li- 
jah." 

Agatha,  finding  Papsy  disinclined  to  conversation,  went 
back  to  thinking  of  "  the  Scarlet  Lady,"  and  determined 
in  her  own  mind  to  ask  Miss  Honora  Clarendon,  at  the 
first  opportunity,  Avho  she  was.  Could  she  be  any  friend 
of  Miss  Clarendon's  ?  She  always  dressed  in  black.  Then 
came  another  question  into  her  busy  brain,  —  why  Miss 
Clarendon  always  wore  black.  She  would  not  dare 


DICK    WALBRIDGE.  35 

ask  her  that ;  she  would  inquire  of  Papsy.  She  inter- 
rupted her  singing,  therefore,  by  the  question,  "Why 
does  Miss  Nora  always  wear  black?" 

"  Sister  of  Charity,  I  spose,  —  Elder  Sparks  says 
so,"  was  the  reply,  and  the  singing  continued. 


36  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

DANGEROUS    SOCIETY. 

"  May  God  have  mercy  upon  her  [the  Komish  Church],  and  upon 
all  those  gentle  hearts  within  her,  who  perchance,  in  her  dark,  dim 

gloom,  be  feeling  after  Christ." 

FABKK. 

"  Kind  wishes  and  good  deeds  they  make  not  poor, 
They'll  home  again  full  laden  to  thy  door; 
The  streams  of  love  flow  back  where  they  begin, 
For  springs  of  outward  joys  lie  deep  within." 

DANA. 

DURING  THE  week  following  the  walk  with 
Papsy,  Agatha  passed  a  day  at  Woodland  Bluff, 
and,  a  storm  of  wind  and  rain  coming  on,  Miss  Claren- 
don despatched  a  servant  for  permission  for  the  little 
girl  to  stay  all  night.  Colonel  Clarendon's  family  were 
gathered  round  the  bright  fire,  rendered  necessary  by 
the  chilly  spring  rain,  listening  to  the  wind  as  it  swayed 
the  tall  forest-trees  that  overhung  the  Bluff,  and  to  the 
roaring  of  the  river,  as  its  swollen  waters  rushed  along. 


DANGEROUS    SOCIETY.  37 

All  at  once  "the  Scarlet  Lady"  popped  into  Agatha's 
head.  She  sprung  to  Honora,  and,  clasping  her  arms 
about  her,  exclaimed,  with  the  eagerness  of  childhood, 
"  O  Miss  Nora !  please  tell  me  who  anybody  means 
by  '  the  Scarlet  Lady.' " 

Honora  looked  at  her  father,  and  then  at  the  child, 
with  a  look  of  perplexity  and  surprise. 

"Tell  me  first  darling,"  she  said,  recovering  herself, 
and  returning  the  little  girl's  caress,  "  who  do  you  mean 
by  '  anybody '  ?  " 

"Why,  Elder  Sparks,  and  Dick  Walbridge,"  she  re- 
plied. 

"  Dick  Walbridge !  Agatha,  where  can  you  have  met 
him  ?  " 

The  child  looked  a  little  vexed,  and  then  said,  "Yes, 
will  you  please  tell  me  who'  she  is  ? " 

"  She  is  no  relation  of  ours,"  said  Colonel  Clarendon, 
smiling  mischievously. 

"I  will  try  to  tell  you,"  said  Honora,  seriously,  "all 
I  know  about  her.  '  Scarlet  Lady '  is  a  term  of  re- 
proach, applied  by  many  very  good  people  to  the  Rom- 
ish Church,  because  they  suppose  the  prophecies  which 
speak  of  the  woman  arrayed  in  scarlet  to  refer  to  that 


38  THE    CHAPEL    OF   ST.    MARY. 

corrupt  body.  But  it  never  seemed  to  me  a  very 
Christian  mode  of  speech." 

"My  daughter,"  said  Colonel  Clarendon,  looking  up 
and  speaking  very  solemnly,  "it  is  hardly  possible  to 
take  too  strong  grounds  against  Romanism." 

"  Perhaps  not,  father ;  but  might  we  not  show  a  more 
Christ-like  spirit  in  our  condemnation?  I  have  often 
thought  the  chains  were  riveted  more  closely  on  the 
minds  of  that  community  by  the  unsparing  denuncia- 
tions of  Protestants ;  by  our  not  allowing  that  they  have 
any  truth,  when  in  reality  they  have  all,  —  but  so  over- 
laid with  corruption  and  error  as  to  be  hidden  from 
view." 

Observing  the  perplexed  look  on  the  face  of  Agatha, 
Honora  took  her  pocket  Testament,  and  read  the  seven- 
teenth chapter  of  Revelation,  telling  her  she  supposed 
this  to  be  the  origin  of  the  name  "  Scarlet  Lady." 

She  drew  from  the  little  girl,  after  they  had  retired 
for  the  night,  the  time  and  place  of  her  meeting  with 
Dick  Walbridge,  and  his  conversation.  The  story  chased 
sleep  from  her  pillow,  and  when  Agatha  had  sunk  into 
a  profound  slumber,  Honora  arose,  and  looked  out  into 
the  storm.  Richard  Walbridge  she  knew  well.  He 


DANGEROUS    SOCIETY.  39 

had  always  been  a  reckless  boy,  and  now  that  he  was 
a  man  rumor  called  him  dissolute.  Her  father  and 
Dr.  Walbridge  had  long  talks  about  him,  and  she  had 
more  than  once  heard  her  father  hint  the  wish  that 
the  young  man  was  well  out  of  the  way.  Here  was 
Agatha,  a  young,  innocent  girl,  scarcely  passed  from 
childhood,  brought  in  contact  with  him ;  and  Papsy,  her 
Sunday-scholar,  evidently  on  questionable  terms  with 
him !  What  could  she  do  to  save  Papsy  and  to  keep 
Agatha  from  his  acquaintance  ?  She  pitied  Richard 
Walbridge,  as  an  angel  may  be  supposed  to  pity  a 
sinner.  She  knew  his  father  was  stern  and  rigid  in 
the  enforcement  of  discipline,  and  the  mother  over-in- 
dulgent ;  but  these  were  no  apologies  for  base  ingrati- 
tude. Every  means  had  been  tried  to  bring  back  the 
reprobate  son.  Colonel  Clarendon  had  remonstrated, 
his  parents  had  pleaded  and  commanded,  in  vain;  he 
neglected  his  studies,  and  spent  his  time  with  doubtful 
characters.  He  had  been  suspended  from  college  in 
his  second  year,  and  was  ostensibly  pursuing  his  studies 
with  his  father;  but  whole  weeks  would  pass  without 
his  appearance  at  the  Rectory,  and  it  would  afterwards 
be  discovered  that  he  had  spent  his  days  in  a  gorge, 


40  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MAKY. 

among  the  hills  below  the  village,  where  a  few  colored 
persons,  half-breeds  and  Africans,  with  a  number  of 
families  of  very  poor  white  people,  dwelt.  Here  Dick 
had  first  met  Papsy  intimately,  on  her  visits  to  her 
brother  Chet. 

Honora  thought  of  poor  Mrs.  Walbridge,  as  she  lis- 
tened to  the  gurgling  waters,  and  a  prayer  arose  from 
her  heart,  that  God  would  bring  back  the  wanderer. 
She  wondered  why  one  baptized  and  brought  up  with 
constant  religious  teaching,  as  Richard  had  been,  should 
be  left  to  alienate  himself  so  far  from  the  household  of 
God.  She  remembered  that  it  is  often  so ;  and  temp- 
tations to  doubt  the  promises  of  God  to  parents  were 
presented  to  her  mind,  but  her  well-grounded  faith  rose 
above  it,  and  she  said,  "He  is  faithful  that  promised, 
who  also  will  do  it."  It  is  better  to  feel  that  poor 
human  nature  has  erred  in  the  training,  rather  than 
doubt  for  a  moment  God's  truth.  Thoughts  of  her  own 
dearly  loved  brother,  and  the  peculiar  temptations  with 
which  he  was  wrestling,  came  rushing  into  her  soul,  and 
she  prayed  earnestly,  that  "  God,  who  knoweth  us  to 
be  set  in  the  midst  of  so  many  and  great  dangers,  that 
by  reason  of  our  frailty  we  cannot  always  stand  up- 


DANGEROUS    SOCIETY.  41 

right,  would  grant  him  such  strength  and  protection, 
as  would  support  him  in  all  dangers,  and  carry  him 
through  all  temptations."  She  arose  from  her  knees  re- 
freshed, and  determined  to  do  what  she  could  for  the 
little  slumberer  beside  her. 

Honora  Clarendon  was  not  one  of  those  sensitive, 
well-meaning  persons,  who  content  themselves  with  weep- 
ing over  the  sorrows  of  humanity.  To  be  in  danger, 
trial,  or  temptation,  —  ay,  to  have  fallen,  —  elicited  not 
only  her  prayers,  but  her  active  efforts  to  help.  "  May 
it  not  be  mine,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  listened  to 
the  soft  breathings  of  the  little  girl,  "  to  lead  this  child 
in  the  right  way  ?  "  From  Agatha's  own  account,  and 
her  deficiency  in  Biblical  knowledge,  while  in  other  stud- 
ies she  was  well  advanced,  Honora  gathered  that  the 
influence  at  home  had  not  been  of  a  religious  charac- 
ter ;  neither  could  she  look  to  Maple  Cliff  for  the  train- 
ing of  the  little  girl's  better  nature.  Providence  had 
brought  the  child  under  her  influence.  She  thanked 
Gocl  and  took  courage.  About  Papsy  she  was  more 
doubtful.  For  a  few  months  past  she  had  avoided  her 
teacher,  and  felt,  as  many  of  her  superiors  do,  that  she 
was  too  old  and  large  for  Sunday  school.  Honora  fell 


42  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

asleep,  determined  on  an  effort  for  both.  With  the  first 
tinge  of  purple  light  in  the  east  she  arose,  and,  having 
attended  to  her  customaiy  morning  duties,  went  to  seek 
her  father.  She  found  him,  as  she  anticipated,  in  the 
library,  studying  the  large  family  Bible,  the  employment 
of  his  early  morning  hours  for  many  years. 

"Dear  father,"  said  Honora,  as  she  softly  entered 
the  room  and  knelt  by  his  chair,  "how  are  you  this 
beautiful  morning?  I  would  not  interrupt  you,  but  I 
wish  to  ask  your  counsel,  while  we  can  be  alone." 

Colonel  Clarendon  embraced  his  daughter,  and  prepared 
himself  to  listen.  She  told  him  plainly  all  that  trou- 
bled her,  about  Agatha  and  Papsy.  He  sighed  when 
'6te  spoke  of  Dick  Walbridge,  and  said:  "Poor  Dr. 
Walbridge ! 

'How  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  it  is 
To  have  a  thankless  child.' " 

"  Father,"  said  Honora,  looking  up  confidingly,  "  if 
Eichard  could  be  sent  away,  perhaps  into  a  foreign 
country,  might  it  not  have  a  good  effect  upon  him? 
The  last  time  he  was  here,  he  said  he  only  wished  he 
was  out  of  this  place." 

"  If  he  had  been  my  boy,  he  would  have  been  sent 


DANGEROUS    SOCIETY.  43 

away  long  ago,"  replied  the  Colonel ;  "  but  what  he 
said  was  only  a  subterfuge.  He  hoped  some  of  his 
friends  would  help  him  to  the  means  to  go.  I  have  no 
faith  in  him." 

"  But,"  continued  Honora,  earnestly,  "  it  seems  to  me 
if  I  could  only  talk  with  him,  —  he  used  to  listen  to  me 
when  we  were  children  together,  —  I  might  persuade 
him  to  go  away,  at  least.  Perhaps  he  does  sometimes 
wish  to  do  well,  but  here  he  is  so  surrounded  writh  the 
scenes  of  his  guilt  —  " 

"  He  could  hardly  be  in  a  place  more  free  from  temp- 
tation than  Rockridge,"  replied  the  Colonel  gravely. 

"  Yes,  father,  but  if  he  could  begin  anew.  O,  there 
is  sometimes  so  much  in  beginning  new ! " 

Colonel  Clarendon  did  not  reply,  and  after  a  while 
she  resumed  the  conversation  by  speaking  of  Agatha. 
"  Don't  you  think,  father,  that  she  should  be  attending 
to  her  studies?" 

"  Certainly  she  should,"  he  replied,  "  but  you  know 
how  strange  Mr.  Douglass's  notions  are.  He  is  deter- 
mined she  shall  not  associate  writh  the  village  people ; 
of  course  he  will  not  send  her  to  the  Academy,  though 
I  doubt  if  he  finds  a  better  school.  Perhaps  he  might 


44  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

like  the  idea  of  a  governess  :  but  it  seems  almost  wicked 
to  ask  any  young  lady  to  mure  herself  at  Maple  Cliff." 

"  A  governess ! "  exclaimed  Ilonora,  "  to  be  sure  : 
why  did  n't  I  think  of  it  ?  and  Charlotte  Morgan  is  just 
the  person!" 

"  Charlotte  Morgan ! "  said  her  father,  musingly. 
"  Yes,  in  most  respects  she  is  very  suitable.  There 
is  only  one  thing  wrong  about  her ;  she  would  not  have 
compassion  enough  for  the  faults  and  failings  she  would 
see  in  her  pupil  and  employer.  Agatha's  high-strung  and 
somewhat  turbulent  nature  would  dash  continually  against 
her  propriety.  But,  after  all,  Ilonora,  you  must  give 
the  child  society  of  her  own  age,  or  she  will  seek  it 
in  Papsy,  and  the  like.  Remember,  she  has  lived  al- 
ways with  brothers  and  sisters,  and  planted  as  she  now 
is,  in  that  castle  of  a  house,  without  a  ray  of  sunshine 
within,  do  you  wonder  that  she  bends  towards  Avhat  she 
conceives  to  be  the  light,  in  the  form  of  a  companion 
of  some  sort?" 

"  I  was  thinking,  if  we  could  bring  it  about,"  sug- 
gested Honora,  "  Anne  Walbridge  might  have  the  bene- 
fit of  Charlotte's  instructions,  with  Agatha.  Mr.  Doug- 
lass has  no  objections  to  her  acquaintance." 


DANGEROUS    SOCIETY.  45 

"A  bright  thought,  Honora ;  I  will  speak  to  Mr. 
Douglass.  Let's  seef  Agatha  is  fourteen,  you  say.  Is 
it  possible  ?  how  very  small  she  is !  Anne  must  be  a 
year  or  two  younger.  Dr.  "Walbridge  has  been  very 
unfortunate  in  his  family.  I  trust  his  little  daughter 
may  be  a  comfort  to  him." 

Colonel  Clarendon  walked  home  with  Agatha  after 
breakfast,  and,  in  a  way  of  his  own,  brought  the  con- 
versation between  himself  and  Mr.  Douglass  around, 
without  seeming  in  any  way  anxious  about  it,  to  the 
propriety  of  having  a  governess  for  his  daughter.  Mr. 
Douglass  first  frowned,  then  looked  more  favorably  up- 
on the  proposal;  presently  he  asked  the  Colonel  how 
he  could  find  a  fitting  person,  one  whom  he  could  re- 
ceive into  the  sanctity  of  the  family.  Colonel  Clar- 
endon suggested  that  he  should  inquire  of  Honora ;  she 
might  have  a  friend  qualified  to  fill  so  important  a 
station. 

Mr.  Douglass  was  always  impatient  when  any  sub- 
ject of  importance  was  under  consideration ;  and  be- 
fore the  end  of  the  week,  he  requested  Honora  to  write 
to  3Ii.-.s  Morgan.  Having  now  settled  matters  as  far 
as  she  was  able  with  regard  to  Agatha,  Miss  Clarendon 
turned  her  thoughts  to  Papsy. 


46  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE   REPROBATE   SOX. 

"I  know,  resolve,  and  do  not,  —  and  anon 
The  wheel  of  human  custom  bears  me  on." 

WILLIAMS. 

"  And  men  have  stamped  me  with  a  curse, 
I  feel  it  is  not  Thine: 
Thy  mercy,  like  yon  sun,  was  made 
On  me  as  them  to  shine." 

IT  "WAS  a  bright  Sunday  afternoon  when  Ilonora 
went  out  to  teach  a  class  her  brother  had  estab- 
lished, which  met  every  Lord's  day  evening  in  a  school- 
house  below  the  village.  This  class  was  composed  of 
children  of  the  poor,  who  came  from  Rockridge  and  the 
gorge  below,  —  children  whose  parents  never  entered  a 
house  of  worship,  —  children  of  the  colored  population, 
and  now  and  then  a  stray  lamb  from  the  flock  of  for- 
eigners scattered  so  liberally  through  our  towns  and 
villages. 


THE    REPROBATE    SOX.  47 

Contrary  to  Honora's  wishes,  (for  she  knew  Mr.  Doug- 
lass's opinion  of  the  school,)  Agatha  had  asked  permis- 
sion to  go;  but  her  uncle  had  sternly  refused,  saying, 
"I  never  wish  to  see  you  in  such  a  motley  crew;  and 
wonder  that  one  as  refined  and  delicate  as  Miss  Nora 
can  find  any  pleasure  in  such  a  low  set:  but  when 
the  demon  of  religious  enthusiasm  enters  into  a  person, 
there  is  no  end  to  absurdity." 

Honora  walked  rapidly  to  her  task.  She  overtook 
Dr.  Walbridge,  who  always  opened  the  school  for  her. 
He  looked  sad  and  worn,  and  she  would  not  intrude 
on  his  sorrows,  therefore  they  walked  in  silence. 

The  first  thing  that  met  her  eye,  on  entering  the 
school-room,  was  the  form  of  Papsy,  standing  in  the 
desk,  authoritatively  calling  the  children  to  order.  Dr. 
Walbridge  soon  finished  his  part  of  the  labors,  and 
after  the  lessons,  commendations,  and  advice  of  the 
teacher,  which  occupied  an  hour,  the  school  was  closed, 
and  Papsy,  who  had  been  requested  to  remain,  was  left 
alone  with  Honora. 

"I  have  been  wishing  to  see  you  and  talk  with  you 
for  some  time,  said  Miss  Clarendon,  taking  Papsy's 
hand.  "  You  know  I  am  interested  in  you,  and  can  have 


48  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MAEY. 

but  one  motive  —  your  good  —  in  saying  what  I  shall  to 
you." 

"Yes,  Miss  Nora,  Papsy's  good,  —  course,"  said  the 
girl,  drawing  down  her  mouth,  and  shutting  her  eyes. 

"I  am  afraid  you  do  not  always  keep  good  company, 
and  I  wish  to  warn  you  of  dangers  in  your  path.  You 
are  young,  and  there  are  those  who  will  take  advan- 
tage of  your  youth,  and  lead  you  to  do  what  you  will 
deeply  regret  when  you  are  older." 

The  girl  did  not  reply,  but,  taking  from  her  pocket  a 
large  white  handkerchief,  applied  it  industriously  to  her 
eyes.  A  deep  blush  overspread  Honora's  face,  for  on 
the  corner  of  the  handkerchief  was  marked  in  full, 
"Richard  Walbridge."  Emboldened  by  this  tangible 
proof  of  their  intimacy,  she  proceeded. 

"  Papsy,  I  refer  particularly  to  Mr.  TValbridge.  You 
see  him  often,  and  are  on  familiar  terms  with  him,  and 
I  wish  to  warn  you,  my  child,  before  it  is  too  late,  that 
he  is  dangerous  society  for  you." 

"I  know  it,  Miss  Nora,  —  know  it,  —  but  Papsy's 
nobody,  —  nobody  cares  for  Papsy ! " 

"Do  not  say  that,"  replied  Honora,  "the  same  eye 
watches  over  you  that  guards  me,  and  there  is  the 


THE    REPROBATE    SON.  49 

same  sorrow  when  you  go  astray.  Your  soul  is  just  as 
precious.  Hear  me  Papsy,"  she  said  more  earnestly, 
"shun  that  man,  or  he  will  be  your  ruin.  He  can 
have  only  a  bad  design  in  seeking  your  company.  You 
used  to  say  you  loved  Miss  Nora.  Do,  for  my  sake, 
for  your  own  sake,  quit  his  society  at  once,  and  for- 
ever." 

"I  promised  to  meet  him  to-night,"  said  the  girl, 
now  really  weeping,  —  "  and  I  must,"  she  added,  with  an 
earnestness  that  startled  her  teacher. 

"Where?"  said  Miss  Clarendon. 

"In  the  Gorge,"  replied  Papsy. 

"I  cannot  let  you  go,"  reph'ed  Honora,  with  deep 
emotion,  "I  cannot  let  you.  Come  home  with  me,  be 
a  good  girl,  and  I  promise  to  help  you  to  be  some- 
body; I  promise  you  you  shall  be  respected,  yes,  be- 
loved, if  you  will  seek  goodness  and  purity.  But  if 
you  go  on  as  you  are  now  going,  I  see  nothing  before 
you  but  a  bitter  life  of  suffering;  and,  O  Papsy,  a 
dark,  black  gulf  after." 

"Miss  Nora,"  said  the  girl,  much  moved  by  the 
earnestness  of  the  appeal,  "Papsy  go  this  once,  —  the 
last  time." 

3  D 


50  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

Honora  hesitated.  At  length  she  said,  "  I  wish  to  see 
Mr.  Walbridge:  could  you  go  down  to  the  Gorge  and 
bring  him  here  now  ?  If  you  will,  I  will  remain  here ; 
you  will  not  keep  me  waiting  long." 

"  Dick  won't  come,"  said  Papsy,  musingly,  "  nor  let 
me  come." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Honora,  "  if  you  tell  him  Miss  Claren- 
don calls  him,  by  the  memory  of  school-days  to  meet 
her  here.  Stay!"  she  added,  writing  a  few  words  on 
a  slip  of  paper.  "  Give  him  this,  —  I  know  he  will  not 
refuse." 

Honora  stood  at  the  window  of  the  little  dilapidated 
school-house,  appropriated  to  the  children  of  the  Gorge, 
arid  watched  Papsy  as  she  strode  along,  singing, — 

"  Sister  Matilda 's  in  the  kingdom." 

She  thought  of  the  prejudice  that  consigned  this  poor 
girl  to  a  life  of  degradation,  and  made  her  virtue  a  mat- 
ter of  small  importance  in  worldly  eyes  ;  other  bitter 
thoughts  of  the  wrongs  of  society  came  to  her  mind, 
and  she  raised  her  tearful  eyes  to  Heaven,  praying  that 
she  might  be  enabled  to  save  this  child,  whose  soul  was 
bought  with  the  same  price  as  her  own,  from  utter 


THE    REPROBATE    SON.  51 

ruin.  Sunlight  faded  away,  and  the  many-colored  clouds 
that  come  after  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  by  and 
by  the  moon  arose,  and  she  began  to  fear  Papsy  was 
treacherous.  As  this  thought  was  deepening  into  cer- 
tainty, she  turned  her  head,  and  saw  Richard  Wai- 
bridge  approaching  from  an  opposite  direction,  and  alone. 
He  entered  somewhat  timidly,  and,  bowing  coldly,  took  a 
seat.  Honora's  heart  beat  violently,  and  she  could  not' 
speak. 

"Miss  Clarendon  flatters  me  by  wishing  to  see  me," 
said  the  young  man.  "It  is  long  since  I  have  been 
so  highly  honored." 

"Richard,"  said  Honora,  when  she  recovered  her 
voice,  rising  and  putting  on  her  bonnet,  "  walk  home 
with  me ;  I  have  much  that  I  wish  to  say  to  you,  and 
I  must  leave  this  place." 

"Will  Miss  Nora  venture  so  far  as  to  permit  me  to 
walk  through  the  village  with  her?" 

"Yes,  Richard,"  she  replied,  "ill-natured  remark  shall 
not  prevent  my  doing  an  act  of  kindness  when  I  can." 

They  went  into  the  street  together,  —  the  pure,  noble- 
hearted  girl,  and  the  reprobate  son. 

"  Richard,"   she   said,    eadly,   as   they   walked   along, 


52  THE    CHAPEL     OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  you  promised  great  things  when  you  were  a  boy. 
Have  you  given  them  all  up,  and  do  you  mean  to  con- 
tent yourself  with  the  life  you  lead?" 

"  Miss  Clarendon,"  replied  the  young  man,  "  you  know 
as  well  as  I  can  tell  you  that  the  want  of  means  alone 
keeps  me  where  I  am.  My  father  still  insists  upon 
my  studying.  I  have  no  taste  or  heart  for  a  student's 
life ;  I  was  born  a  rover,  and  should  have  left  the 
country  long  ago,  only  that  I  did  not  choose  to  go  as 
a  beggar,  without  outfit  or  means  to  carry  me  to  the 
next  State." 

"  Would  you  leave  this  part  of  the  country  at  once, 
if  you  had  the  means  ? "  inquired  his  companion. 

"  Yes,  to-morrow,"  he  replied ;  "  what  have  I  to  bind 
me  here?  I  have  talents  for  business,  and  my  mother 
would  be  willing  I  should  be  anything  but  a  sailor ;  but 
my  father  — "  he  said,  with  something  very  like  an 
oath. 

"Hush,  Eichard,"  said  Miss  Clarendon,  in  a  voice 
of  authority.  "  Will  you  promise  me,  on  your  honor 
as  a  man,  that  if  I  will  procure  the  means,  and  your 
father's  consent,  you  will  go  somewhere,  and  endeavor 
to  retrieve  your  character?" 


THE    EEPROBATE    SON.  53 

"  On  my  honor,  Miss  Nora  ?  Do  you  believe  in 
such  a  myth  after  to-night?" 

"Yes,  Richard,"  she  replied,  without  appearing  to 
understand  his  look.  "If  you  give  me  your  word,  I 
will  trust  it.  I  do  not  believe  you  can  wholly  forget 
all  the  teachings  we  had  as  children,  around  that  holy 
altar." 

"I  promise  to  leave  this  part  of  the  country,"  said 
the  young  man,  somewhat  sullenly ;  "  but  as  to  bearing 
in  mind  all  the  pious  teaching  of  my  father,  backed 
as  it  has  been  by  unmitigated  severity  at  home,  that  I 
will  not  promise." 

They  parted  when  they  reached  Woodland  Bluff. 
"Walbridge  walked  thoughtfully  homeward,  while  Ho- 
nora  went  to  the  library  to  consult  with  her  father. 

The  Rectory,  the  nominal  home  of  Richard,  was  a 
plain  two-story  house  near  the  church.  Five  very 
tall  poplar-trees  were  the  only  attempt  at  ornament 
about  it ;  and  everything  within  and  without  was  per- 
vaded with  an  air  of  unapproachable  stiffness. 

The  study  door  stood  open  when  the  young  man 
entered  the  hall. 

"  Richard,"   said   a   stern   voice    from  within,   "  how 


54  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

have  you  passed  the  hours  of  the  holy  Sabbath?  Your 
seat  in  church  was  vacant." 

"The  last  hour,  sir,"  replied  the  son,  "was  spent  in 
better  company  than  I  expect  to  meet  again  for  some 
time." 

"  Eemember,  Richard,"  replied  the  father,  "  the  curse 
upon  Sabbath-breakers." 

The  young  man  slammed  the  door  with  an  oath,  and 
went  out. 

Dr.  Walbridge  was  a  well-meaning  man,  —  yes,  he 
was  a  good  man,  —  humble-minded,  devoted  to  his  work  ; 
but  he  could  not  win  souls,  for  he  could  not  enter  into 
the  heart.  His  ideas  of  parental  authority  were  clearly 
denned,  and  strenuously  urged  and  acted  upon.  His 
son,  naturally  wayward  and  wilful,  had  been  made  more 
rebellious  by  the  continued  preaching  and  reproving  of 
his  father,  joined  with  his  stern  and  rigid  discipline. 
Every  boyish  folly .  was  magnified  into  an  offence,  and 
punished  with  a  severity  that  made  little  distinction 
between  moral  delinquency  and  the  giddy  thoughtless- 
ness of  youth. 

Mrs.  Walbridge  was  a  direct  contrast  to  her  husband  ; 
easy  and  self-indulgent,  she  weathered  the  storms  of  life 


THE    REPROBATE    SON.  55 

on  her  oars.  Her  husband's  severity  she  balanced  by 
over-indulgence.  They  had  been  blessed  with  several 
children ;  but  the  greater  blessing  had  been  vouchsafed 
the  little  ones,  and  they  had  been  taken  one  by  one, 
till  only  the  eldest  and  youngest  remained.  Anne  was 
a  quiet  little  girl  of  a  dozen  ,years,  possessing  her  moth- 
er's good-natured,  easy  temperament,  united  to  her  fa- 
ther's conscientiousness  #nd  sincerity.  She  was  the  sole 
pet  of  her  father,  and  when  they  were  alone  he  would 
unbend  from  his  tall  stiffness,  and  stoop  to  caress  his 
"little  Nannie."  It  is  doubtful  if  he  had  bestowed  an 
act  of  endearment  upon  Richard  since  his  infancy.  He 
fancied  it  would  make  his  eldest  boy  unmanly.  The 
mother,  on  the  contrary,  lavished  all  the  fondness  of 
which  she  was  capable  on  the  son,  overlooking  all  his 
delinquencies,  and  even  at  times  encouraging  him  in 
wrong-doing,  by  acts  of  deception,  which  she  answered 
to  her  conscience  by  the  plea,  "that  young  men  must 
have  some  amusement,  and  Dr.  Walbridge  was  so  strict." 

Such  were  the  parents,  and  such  was  the  son. 

Honora  Clarendon,  with  her  quiet  trust  in  God,  could 
do  wonders  ;  and  in  less  than  a  week  she  had  procured 
sufficient  funds  to  carry  Richard  Walbridge  to  Califor- 


56  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

nia,  where  he  expressed  a  wish  to  try  his  fortune,  and 
procured,  what  she  found  far  more  difficult  to  obtain, 
his  father's  consent  to  his  departure.  Dr.  "Walbridge 
was  blessed  with  any  amount  of  persistency,  and  he 
had  resolved  Richard  should  study.  How  Honora,  with 
her  gentleness,  brought  him  to  give  up  this  favorite 
project,  remains  a  secret;  but  we  may  guess  that  the 
knowledge  she  imparted  (through  her  father),  when  all 
other  arguments  failed,  of  the  trystings  of  Richard  and 
Papsy,  had  something  to  do  with  the  change. 


THE    GOVERNESS.  57 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

THE    GOVERNESS. 

"  Labor  is  rest,^  from  the  sorrows  that  greet  us, 
Rest  from  all  petty  vexations  that  meet  us, 
Rest  from  sin-promptings  that  lure  us  to  ill. 
Work,  and  pure  slumber  shall  wait  on  thy  pillow; 
TFwA-,  thou  shalt  ride  over  care's  coming  billow. 
Lie  not  down  wearied  'neath  woe's  weeping  willow, 
Work  with  a  stout  heart  and  resolute  will." 

MRS.  OSGOOD. 

HONORA  WAITED  patiently  the  reply  to  her 
letter  to  Charlotte  Morgan.  She  knew  her  friend 
was  slow  in  making  up  her  mind  on  important  sub- 
jects. Therefore,  when  two  weeks  passed,  and  Colonel 
Clarendon  thought  it  "  very  strange,"  and  Mr.  Doug- 
lass begun  to  be  a  little  sharp  about  the  matter,  Honora 
quietly  "  kept  hoping  on."  At  length,  the  letter,  with 
the  post-stamp  of  Philadelphia,  was  put  into  her  hand. 
It  was  both  satisfactory  and  characteristic,  and  we  tran- 
scribe it. 


58  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"PHILADELPHIA,  May,  18 — . 

"  Your  letter,  my  dear  Honora,  required  so  much 
consideration,  that  I  have  deferred  the  reply  till  I 
could  give  you  a  decided  one.  My  home  here  is  un- 
comfortable, my  position  annoying.  Your  society,  and 
that  of  your  honored  parent,  my  father's  friend,  would 
be  delightful;  and  then  to  live  in  Rockridge,  whose 
wild  and  beautiful  scenery  I  have  longed  to  look  upon, 
this  too  would  be  only  happiness.  But  all  these  in- 
ducements did  not  make  it  seem  right  for  me  to  leave 
here.  I  wished  to  feel,  that  to  go  to  the  situation  pro- 
posed was  to  go  to  'that  state  of  life  unto  which  it 
had  pleased  God  to  call  me.'  The  matter  was  decided 
yesterday,  by  circumstances  that  break  up  my  home 
here.  Now  I  am  ready  to  go  to  Maple  Cliff,  at  such 
time  as  shall  suit  Mr.  Douglass. 

"You  kindly  urge  my  visiting  you,  a  few  weeks  be- 
fore entering  on  my  new  charge.  After  due  consider- 
ation of  all  that  you  tell  me  of  the  young  person  to 
be  committed  to  my  care,  the  length  of  time  she  has 
been  out  of  school,  &c.,  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  forego  the 
pleasure  of  a  visit  at  Woodland  Bluff,  and  enter  at 
once  upon  my  charge  at  Maple  Cliff. 


THE    GOVERNESS.  59 

"  With  kind  regards  to  your  honored  father,  and  love 
to  Aunt  Martha, 

"I  am  truly  yours, 

"  CHARLOTTE  MORGAN." 

"  How  like  Charlotte ! "  exclaimed  Colonel  Clarendon, 
as  he  folded  the  letter.  "  So  exact  to  duty,  even  at 
the  risk  of  appearing  ungrateful !  Somewhat  formal, 
Honora  ?  " 

His  daughter  blushed,  for  she  remembered  to  have 
had  the  same  thought,  after  the  first  reading;  but  a 
second  perusal,  and  the  memory  of  the  past,  crushed 
the  feeling,  and  she  replied :  "  But,  father,  there  is 
not  a  warmer  or  truer  heart  beats  than  Charlotte's." 

"And  yet,  daughter,"  he  said,  with  a  look  of  pater- 
nal pride  mingled  with  affection,  "  she  does  not  make 
friends  like  my  Honora." 

"Her  temperament  is  different  from  mine,  father." 

"  No,  Nora,  it  is  not  that ;  she  is  as  enthusiastic  on 
many  subjects  as  you  are ;  but  there  is  a  withdrawing 
of  herself  from  the  common  sympathies  of  her  race, 
that  reminds  me  strongly  of  my  aristocratic  friend 
Morgan." 


60  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.   MARY. 

The  day  was  fixed  for  the  arrival  of  the  governess 
at  Maple  Cliff.  Pat  had  been  despatched,  with  horses 
and  carriage,  to  meet  Miss  Morgan  at  the  curs.  In  the 
mean  time  Mr.  Douglass  had  walked  the  room,  scolding 
till  he  had  worked  his  wife  into  a  paroxysm  of  fear,  by 
stopping  in  his  long  strides  just  before  her,  and  saying, 
in  a  withering  tone,  "Madam,  you  may  thank  yourself 
for  this  encumbrance,  —  yes,  yourself.  Had  you  been 
what  Rodney  Douglass's  wife  should  have  been,  our 
family  affairs  had  not  been  submitted  to  the  gaze  of 
strangers ! " 

She  endeavored  to  reply,  but  he  stopped  her  short 
in  a  peremptory  tone :  "  No  apologies,  Madam,  you 
need  make  no  apologies !  The  work  is  yours,  and  you 
must  take  the  consequences,  if  all  the  world  come  to 
know  that  Rodney  Douglass's  wife  is  — " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but,  turning  on  his 
heel,  stalked  into  the  hall  in  a  towering  rage.  The 
door  opened,  and  Miss  Morgan  was  announced.  It 
must  be  owned,  he  was  somewhat  abashed,  and  de- 
scended not  very  gracefully  from  his  high  flight,  and  gave 
the  lady  a  cool  reception.  His  remarkable  penetration 
into  character  told  him  at  once,  that  he  had  no  weak 


THE    GOVERNESS.  61 

vacillating  woman  to  deal  with.  He  knew  she  would 
not  be  agreeable  to  him  as  Honora,  but  he  could  re- 
spect her. 

Charlotte  Morgan  had  been  an  orphan  about  four 
years.  Brought  up  in  comfortable  circumstances,  with 
a  prospect  of  affluence  by  the  death  of  her  father,  at 
the  age  of  twenty  she  was  left  penniless  and  depen- 
dent. Descended  in  a  direct  line  from  one  of  the  brav- 
est of  our  Revolutionary  heroes,  poverty  was  an  evil  to 
be  met  and  conquered,  and  dependence  was  a  slavery 
to  which  she  would  not  submit.  Her  education  had 
been  of"  a  superior  order,  and  with  that  she  entered  as 
governess  in  the  family  of  one  of  her  father's  "  friends  in 
prosperity."  Her  position  had  been  exceedingly  uncom- 
fortable, but  she  had  borne  it  for  years,  confiding  her 
sorrows  to  no  one,  except  very  sparingly  in  her  letters 
to  Honora.  The  sudden  failure  of  her  employers  had 
opened  the  way  for  her  to  seek  a  living  elsewhere. 

Honora,  in  her  account  of  the  situation,  had  mingled 
enough  of  her  probable  trials  with  her  inducements,  to 
convince  her  somewhat  austere  friend  that  her  life  at 
Maple  Cliff  would  not  be  pleasure-seeking. 

The  task  of  bringing  Agatha  Douglass  into  habits  of 


62  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

regularity  and  discipline  was  not  as  difficult  as  might 
be  supposed.  Although  the  last  six  months  had  been 
days  of  unrestrained  liberty,  saving  where  her  will 
clashed  with  that  of  Mr.  Douglass,  her  early  life  had 
been  spent  with  brothers  and  sisters,  and  there  is  noth- 
ing like  a  large  family  to  bring  one  to  an  understand- 
ing of  the  rights  of  others. 

Her  reh'gious  training  Miss  Morgan  found  most  de- 
ficient, particularly  her  entire  want  of  a  sense  of  re- 
sponsibility. 

As  a  work  of  supererogation  (Mr.  Douglass  said), 
Charlotte  had  undertaken  to  civilize  Papsy ;  But  she 
found  the  untamed  Indian  nature  remaining,  and  fully 
developed  by  the  h'fe  she  had  led  at  Maple  Cliff.  No 
one  had  ever  attempted  to  govern  her  before,  save  her 
master;  and  Charlotte  soon  found  that  control  in  any 
degree  was  out  of  the  question.  Therefore  she  was 
obliged  to  content  herself  by  endeavoring  to  keep  Aga- 
tha from  Papsy's  society.  In  this  she  was  continually 
thwarted  by  Mr.  Douglass,  who,  hi  spite  of  hints  from 
Miss  Morgan,  and  now  and  then  a  timid  word  from  his 
wife,  persisted  in  allowing  Agatha  to  spend  her  hours 
of  recreation  in  long  walks  with  her  colored  friend. 


THE    GOVERNESS.  63 

Anne  "Walbridge  became  a  constant  attendant  on 
Miss  Charlotte's  instructions  ;  and  she,  gentle,  yielding, 
and  easily  governed,  with  early  religious  training,  soon 
became  (unacknowledged  by  herself)  Miss  Morgan's 
favorite. 


64  THE     CHAPEL     OF     ST.     MARY. 


CHAPTER    IX.' 

THE   RID  G WAYS. 

"  The  world  has  grown  so  bad, 
That  wrens  may  prey  where  eagles  dare  not  perch. 
Since  every  Jack  became  a  gentleman, 
There 's  many  a  gentle  person  made  a  Jack." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

« "V TOW,  GALS,"  said  Mrs.  Ridgway  (whom  we 
_L  1  would  introduce  to  our  readers),  as  she  bus- 
tled about  the  room  after  dinner,  "here  you've  been 
tryin'  this  ever  so  long  to  get  in  with  the  Doug- 
lass -family.  Here 's  a  right  nice  chance !  Just  go 
call  on  that  young  woman  I  heard  you  say  was 
in  the  pew  yesterday.  They  say  she 's  hired  to 
teach  that  niece  of  theirn.  A  mighty,  wild  piece  she 
is,  trailing  down  to  the  Gorge  with  Papsy,  and  I  s'pose 
they'd  think  her  pizen'd  to  send  her  down  here  to 
school." 

"  A  new  way  of  getting  into  good  society,  ma,  calling 


THE    KIDGWAYS.  65 

on  the  governess  of  the  family ! "  said  Miss  Julia  Ridg- 
way,  with  a  toss  of  her  head,  and  a  curl  of  her  very 
short  upper  lip. 

"Well,  sister,"  said  Eliza,  the  younger  Miss  Ridg- 
way,  with  a  sanctimonious  drawing  down  of  the  eye- 
lids, "I  think  I  shall  call.  I  thought  of  it  Sunday  in 
church,  she  is  so  pious  and  devout,  and  has  such  a  dis- 
tingue air." 

"How  did  she  know  she  was  'so  devout"?"  whis- 
pered Tom  in  the  ear  of  his  sister  Julia.  "  Eliza,"  he 
said  in  his  usual  voice,  "  maybe  she  is  Romish ! " 

u  O,  don't  suggest  such  an  idea ! "  she  replied,  hold- 
ing up  her  hands  with  holy  horror.  "  When  I  hear  girls 
like  Honora  Clarendon  defending  the  Catholics,  as  she 
did  to  you  the  other  day,  it  is  time  to  fear  for  the 
truth." 

"  Defend  the  Catholics !  She  did  no  such  thing ! " 
replied  Tom.  "  She  merely  remarked  to  one  who  said 
Romanists  were  worse  than  infidels,  that  she  thought 
we  might  take  pattern  from  them  in  zeal  and  earnest- 
ness." 

"  She  would  attack  you,  Eliza,  as  she  did  me,  on 
your  use  of  the  word  Catholic,"  said  Julia  sneeringly. 


66  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"I  am  not  to  be  taught  by  Honora  Clarendon,"  re- 
torted Eliza,  a  flush  of  anger  passing  over  her  little, 
pale  face.  "  Any  one  who  carries  herself  so  much  above 
all  the  rest  of  the  world  as  she  does  — " 

"  False  !  false  ! "  said  Tom  energetically. 

"Well,  don't  quarrel  about  her,  children,"  said  Mrs. 
Ridgway  persuasively  ;  "  only  try  and  get  into  her  good 
graces,  for  she  belongs  to  a  very  genteel  family.  I 
can  remember  the  Clarendons  as  long  as  I  can  remem- 
ber anything,  and  they  was  always  one  of  the  first  fam- 
ilies. Colonel  Clarendon  married  a  Wilbur,  Judge 
Wilbur's  daughter." 

"  Good  blood,  —  good  blood,"  grunted  the  father  of 
this  interesting  family,  from  his  lolling  chair  in  the 
corner,  where  he  had  been  dozing  for  the  last  hour. 

"  There !  I  declare  !  Who 's  near  when  you  're  talk- 
ing about  him  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ridgway,  as  she  lifted 
the  corner  of  the  curtain,  and  looked  into  the  street. 
"  There  goes  Miss  Clarendon  in  her  everlastin'  black, 
and  that  governess  woman  with  her !  Where  can  they 
be  going?" 

"On  some  errand  of  mercy,  ma,"  said  Tom.  "Sis- 
ter of  Charity,  you  know  the  Elder  says." 


THE    RIDGWAYS.  67 

"  I  wonder  if  she  never  means  to  take  off  her  black  ?  " 
continued  Mrs.  Ridgway.  "  Pa,"  she  said,  addressing 
her  dozing  husband,  "  how  long  ago  is  it  since  young 
Wood  was  killed?  Six  year,  ain't  it?" 

"  More  'n  that !  "  drawled  her  better  half. 

"  See  what  a  proud,  haughty  gait  Honora  Claren- 
don has ! "  said  Eliza.  "  Any  one  could  read  her  char- 
acter in  her  step.  That  Miss  Morgan  stoops  a  h'ttle, 
don't  she?" 

"I  don't  believe  Miss  Clarendon  will  ever  marry," 
said  Tom,  looking  over  his  sisters'  shoulders,  as  they 
peeped  through  the  Winds,  after  Honora  and  Charlotte. 

"Tom,"  said  Julia,  "when  does  Gregory  Clarendon 
finish  his  studies?" 

"  He  is  in  his  last  year  at  Yale  ;  and  then  his  pro- 
fession. They  say  he  is  to  be  a  clergyman." 

"  Yes,"  said  little  Miss  Eliza,  musingly,  "  what  a 
beautiful  young  man  he  is!  So  earnest!  so  pious! 
How  delightful  it  is  to  see  a  young  man  giving  his 
best  days  to  the  service  of  religion  !  What  a  fine  reader 
he  is,  too !  The  modulation  of  his  voice  is  perfect ! 
And  what  a  lovely  hand  he  has!" 

Ahem ! "  said  Tom,  with  a  knowing  look  at  Julia. 


68  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"But  here  comes  Deacon  Dobbin  and  his  wife,  girls; 
you  better  scud." 

"  O  dear,  yes ! "  they  exclaimed  in  a  breath,  as  they 
rushed  up  stairs.  "Not  at  home,"  they  added  to  the 
green  Irish  girl  who  tended  the  door. 

The  Dobbins  were  despatched  without  admittance, 
much  to  the  disappointment  of  Mrs.  Ridgway,  who 
longed  for  the  nice  dish  of  discourse  Mrs.  Dobbin  was 
sure  to  introduce. 

"Tom,"  she  said  mournfully,  "the  gals  are  crazy  to 
get  Nora  Clarendon  here,  and  they  can't  contrive  any 
way  but  to  have  the  sewing  society.  Your  father 
would  n't  like  it,  I  guess.  We  don't  belong  to  Dr. 
Walbridge's  meetin',  and  I'm  afraid  Elder  Sparks 
would  blaze  about  it.  I'd  just  as  lief  they'd  have 
it.  It 's  nat'ral  they  should  want  to  get  into  the 
best  society,  and  why  should  n't  they  ?  Your  father  is 
worth  more  than  all  the  Clarendons  and  Douglasses 
together." 

"I  wouldn't  mind  what  Elder  Sparks  says  about  it, 
ma,"  said  the  young  man.  "  Father  won't  object.  Have 
the  society  if  the  girls  want  it,  now  Dick  "Walbridge  is 
gone." 


THE    RIDGWAYS.  69 

"  Does  anybody  know  whether  he  really  has  gone," 
said  his  mother,  "  and  whereabouts  ?  " 

"  Nobody  unless  it  is  Julia,"  he  replied.  -  "  Dick  is 
good  company,  but  I  don't  want  him  for  a  brother,  at 
least  while  he  leads  the  life  of  a  loafer,"  he  said,  turning 
on  his  heel  and  leaving  the  room. 


70  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE   TWO  FRIENDS. 

"  She  never  found  fault  with  you;  never  implied 
Your  wrong  by  her  right;  and  yet  men  at  her  side 
Grew  nobler,  girls  purer,  as  through  the  whole  town 
The  children  were  gladder  that  plucked  at  her  gown." 

BKOWNIHG. 

IT  WAS  a  beautiful  afternoon  in  June.  Dr.  Wai- 
bridge  had  sent  to  Miss  Clarendon  a  note,  asking 
her  to  go  to  the  Gorge  to  visit  a  poor  woman,  a  com- 
inunicant  of  the  church,  who  had  been  taken  suddenly 
ill.  Honora  requested  Charlotte  to  accompany  her,  and, 
as  j\lr,  Douglass  had  given  Agatha  permission  to  go  out 
with  Papsy  for  strawberries,  Charlotte  felt  at  liberty  to 
accept  the  invitation  of  her  friend.  It  was  a  distance 
of  more  than  two  miles,  a  walk  Honora  often  took,  in 
looking  after  her  Sunday-scholars,  and  in  other  acts  of 
charity.  There  was  a  way  of  reaching  this  wild  place 
by  water,  that  was  less  than  half  that  distance ;  but  this 


THE    TWO    FRIENDS.  71 

was  seldom  practicable  for  Honora,  unless  her  brother 
was  with  her  to  row  the  boat. 

As  has  been  said,  Mr.  Douglass's  and  Colonel  Claren- 
don's estates  lay  above  the  village,  overlooking  it ;  the 
Gorge  was  below  the  village,  a  narrow  valley,  between 
two  mountainous  bluffs,  through  which  the  waters  of  the 
river  rushed  with  increased  rapidity,  from  the  narrow- 
ness of  their  bed. 

It  seemed  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  The 
huts  and  hovels  of  the  inhabitants  were  planted  without 
order  among  the  rugged  crags  and  dense  thickets  on 
either  side.  It  was  a  wild  place,  and  many  of  its  in- 
habitants partook  of  its  character.  It  opened  to  the 
north  and  south ;  the  sun  therefore  did  not  penetrate 
its  fastnesses  till  the  world  of  Rockridge  was  far  in 
the  day,  and  night  came  down  apace  upon  the  valley. 

Honora  and  Charlotte  interchanged  that  flow  of 
thought  and  feeling  that  characterizes  true  friendship 
as  they  walked.  Charlotte,  uncommunicative  to  the 
world  at  large,  had  few  reserves  with  Honora ;  Hono- 
ra, warm-hearted  and  affectionate  to  all,  reserved  her 
confidences  for  the  ear  of  Charlotte. 

"Nora,"  said  Miss  Morgan,  as  she  pulled  to  pieces  a 


72  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

sprig  of  St.  John's-wort  she  had  plucked  by  the  way- 
side, "do  you  think  I  can  ever  gain  an  influence  with 
Agatha,  —  a  controlling  influence  ?  " 

Honora  looked  into  the  thoughtful  face  of  her  friend 
with  a  sweet  look  of  sympathizing  love,  and  replied, 
"Yes,  Charlotte,  influence  her  to  almost  any  extent,  if 
you  can  make  her  love  you." 

"  Ah !  Honora,  but  how  am  I  to  bring  that  about  ? " 

" '  Love  goes  towards  love,'  was  one  of  our  copies  at 
school,  and  it  is  none  the  less  true  now  than  in  the 
time  of  Shakespeare,"  replied  Honora. 

"  Oh ! "  said  Charlotte  with  a  sigh,  "  how  I  wish  I  had 
your  faculty  of  making  everybody  love  me!  Agatha 
is  an  uncommon  child ;  her  intellectual  developments 
are  remarkable,  though  her  ways  are  childish;  but  her 
religious  training  has  been  little  better  than  that  of  a 
heathen.  If  she  had  been  baptized,  I  should  have  more 
hope  of  a  good  result  from  my  efforts,  for  the  covenant 
promises  are  so  encouraging,  and  you  can  sometimes 
convince  a  baptized  child  that  there  is  something  they 
can  do,  with  the  help  of  God,  to  assist  your  efforts. 
Agatha  has  scarce  a  thought  of  her  responsibility  to  a 
higher  power,  and  she  questions  and  reasons  in  matters 
of  faith  and  duty  like  a  lawyer." 


THE    TWO    FRIENDS.  73 

"  I  have  noticed  this  disposition  in  her,"  replied 
Honora,  "  and  I  am  convinced  she  will  never  see  the 
truth  till  her  affections  are  enlisted ;  and  these  can  only 
be  acted  upon  by  patient,  enduring  love  and  sympathy. 
It  will  be  a  very  weary  work  sometimes,  dear  Char- 
lotte ;  but  then  the  end!  The  precious  privilege 

'to  work  for  Him 
Who  works  for  all.' " 

There  was  a  pause  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  Miss 
Clarendon  said,  very  gently,  as  if  half  afraid  of  wound- 
ing her  friend's  feelings,  "Would  you  like  me  to  tell 
you,  Charlotte,  just  what  I  fear?" 

"  Honora,"  replied  Miss  Morgan,  "  why  do  you  ask 
me?  You  have  always  been  my  truest  friend,  and  I 
was  never  more  at  a  loss  for  the  best  way  than  I  am 
now.  What  is  it  you  fear  particularly?" 

"I  am  afraid,  dear  Charlotte,  that  you  will  make  a 
distinction  between  Anne  Walbridge  and  Agatha  that 
will  hinder  your  influence  with  the  latter." 

"Looking  upon  one  as  a  Christian,  and  the  other  as 
a  heathen,  you  mean,"  said  Charlotte ;  "  I  OAvn  to  hav- 
ing had  the  feeling." 

"  Anne  is  a  quiet,  good  child,"  replied  Honora,  "  but 
4 


74  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MAKY. 

she  will  never  exert  half  the  power,  for  either  good  or 
evil,  that  Agatha  will.  Surely  it  is  not  this  child's  fault, 
st>  much  as  it  is  her  misfortune,  that  she  is  no  more 
religiously  inclined.  We  must  take  the  circumstances 
of  life  into  account  in  forming  our  judgment  of  charac- 
ter. Imagine  Agatha  from  her  infancy  under  judicious 
religious  teaching,  —  the  teaching  of  the  Church ;  that 
unsubdued  wilfulness  changed  into  a  determination  to 
do  right ;  that  earnest  love  of  the  beautiful,  and  affec- 
tionate impulsiveness,  guided  always  by  the  truth ;  that 
proud  heart  yielding  to  acknowledged  authority,  —  the 
authority  of  Christ  and  his  Church  ;  —  and  what  a  lovely 
working  character  we  should  have;  just  such  a  charac- 
ter as  I  am  hoping  some  day  to  see  in  Agatha.  It  is 
an  advantage  that  she  has  been  kept  a  child,  instead  of 
being  made  into  a  little  woman." 

The  young  ladies  had  now  reached  the  village,  and 
were  passing  through  the  main  street,  and  the  conver- 
sation changed.  Honora  pointed  out  the  residences  as 
they  went  by,  and  gave  her  companion  a  brief  account 
of  the  inhabitants. 

"Here  lives  Mr.  Ridgway,"  she  said,  as  they  came 
opposite  the  pretentious  brick  house  that  loomed  above 


THE    TWO    FRIENDS.  75 

the  cottages  and  simple  country  dwellings  around. 
"  He  is  the  owner  of  a  factory  village,  seven  miles  be- 
low, called  Ridgeville.  He  has  two  daughters,  and  a 
son  who  is  destined  for  the  bar.  The  young  ladies 
have  lately  come  into  our  parish ;  the  parents  attend 
Elder  Sparks's  ministrations.  The  girls  are  somewhat 
peculiar  in  their  ways,  and  annoy  Gregory  very  much 
by  their  display." 

"  They  must  be  the  same  I  heard  Papsy  and  Agatha 
talking  about,"  said  Miss  Morgan.  "  Agatha  asked  Pap- 
sy who  that  was  at  church  'that  looked  like  a  full- 
blown peony,  with  a  sister  who  drew  down  her  face  and 
looked  out  of  the  corners  of  her  eyes  to  see  if  any- 
body was  looking  at  her.'  I  could  not  suppress  a  smile, 
although  I  was  shocked  at  Papsy's  characteristic  reply, 
'  Scribes,  —  Pharisees,  —  hypocrites,  —  Ridgways.'  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Honora,  "  the  poor  girl  bears  a  little 
grudge  toward  the  elder  sister.  I  told  you  about  young 
Walbridge.  He  has  paid  Miss  Julia  some  marked  at- 
tentions the  past  winter:  whether  they  amounted  to 
anything  serious  I  don't  know,  but  they  were  enough 
to  excite  Papsy's  suspicions.  Poor  girl ! "  she  added, 
"when  I  see  how  lifeless  and  indifferent  she  is  since 


76  THE    CHAPEL     OF    ST.    MARY. 

Richard  went  away,  I  fear  she  cared  more  for  him 
than  will  be  for  her  peace  of  mind." 

"  She  is  a  strange  being ! "  said  Charlotte.  "  I  won- 
der afc  Mr.  Douglass  allowing  such  freedom  and  famil- 
iarity of  intercourse  between  this  girl  and  Agatha. 
Don't  you  think  the  intimacy  will  be  injurious  to  the 
child?" 

"I  am  afraid  she  may  gain  a  knowledge  of  things 
she  ought  not  to  know,"  replied  Honora. 

"  I  have  attempted,"  said  Charlotte,  "  to  speak  to  Mr. 
Douglass  about  this,  but  there  is  a  certain  familiarity 
between  himself  and  Papsy  that  I  cannot  understand. 
He  treats  her  like  a  favorite  house-dog.  She  is  the 
only  person  with  whom  I  ever  heard  him  joke.  I  can- 
not reconcile  this  with  his  extreme  haughtiness  and 
pride.  Only  last  week,  he  made  her  stand  in  a  ta- 
bleau with  Agatha.  It  was  really  a  brilliant  thing,  and 
Papsy,  with  her  scarlet  robes  and  glittering  jewels, 
looked  like  an  Indian  princess.  All  went  pleasantly, 
till  Mr.  Douglass  pronounced  the  name  of  the  picture, 
'  The  pure  and  mixed  races.'  Papsy  turned  deadly  pale, 
clenched  her  hands,  and  bit  her  lips,  till  the  blood  burst 
from  them.  Mr.  Douglass  put  her  out  of  the  room 


THE    TWO    FRIENDS.  77 

forcibly,  before  she  could  finish  the  very  impudent  speech 
she  had  commenced,  forbidding  Agatha  (who  of  course 
took  her  part)  to  follow.  We  did  not  see  Papsy  for 
the  remainder  of  the  week,  and  Mr.  Douglass  was  ab- 
sent-minded and  anxious.  I  asked  Agatha  if  she  knew 
where  Papsy  was,  and  she  said,  '  With  her  brother  Chet 
in  the  Gorge.' " 


78  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

THE   GORGE. 

"  He  prayeth  well  who  loveth  well 
Both  man  and  bird  and  beast; 
He  prayeth  best  who  loveth  best 
All  things  both  groat  and  small; 
For  the  dear  God  who  loveth  us, 
He  made  and  loveth  all." 

COLKEIDGE. 

THE  YOUNG  ladies  had  reached  the  entrance  of 
the  Gorge,  while  Miss  Morgan  was  giving  the 
account  of  the  tableau.  Charlotte,  who  had  never  been 
in  this  strange  place,  was  startled  by  the  wildness  of 
the  scenery.  The  houses  looked  like  eagles'  nests 
among  the  rocks.  There  was  a  stone  hut,  covered 
with  a  luxuriant  grape-vine,  near  the  very  top  of  the 
eastern  bluff.  "That  is  Chet's  castle,"  said  Honora, 
pointing  it  out  to  her  friend,  —  "  Papsy's  retreat  in  times 
of  trouble.  Chetwood  married  a  white  girl,  two  or 
three  years  since,  and  there  they  live  apparently  very 


THE    GORGE.  79 

harmoniously.  Chet  is  the  ruling  power  in  this  region, 
almost  a  lord." 

"  What  a  frightfully  beautiful  place ! "  said  Charlotte, 
as  she  looked  up  the  precipitous  sides  of  the  bluffs. 
"  How  do  they  contrive  to  get  up  there  ? " 

"  There  is  a  winding  path,  not  very  difficult  of  as- 
cent," replied  Honora.  "  The  house  to  which  we  are 
bound  is  that  hut  just  below  Chet's,  on  that  open  level 
spot." 

They  came  into  the  winding  path,  that  led  now  through 
dense  woods,  and  then  across  broad  open  patches,  that 
afforded  extensive  views  of  the  valley.  As  they  ad- 
vanced to  the  second  opening^  the  figure  of  a  man 
was  seen  coming  down  from  Chet's  aerie.  With  agile 
step  he  sprung  from  rock  to  rock,  never  in  the  path, 
but  always  on  the  ledges  that  lay  outside  towards  the 
river.  One  who  had  seen  Chet  could  never  forget 
him.  His  powerful  frame,  broad  chest,  large  head, 
erect  form,  dark  piercing  eyes,  and  thin  lips,  marked 
him  as  a  man  of  power ;  but  his  cheek  was  tinged  like 
the  faded  oak-leaf,  and  the  curse  of  Indian  blood  rested 
upon  him.  Had  he  been  taught  to  act,  he  might  have 
as  an  Italian  or  a  Spaniard.  That  the  curse  of 


80  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

his  mixed  blood  cut  like  a  sharp  iron  into  his  very 
heart,  might  be  read  in  the  expression  of  scorn  that 
curled  his  lip  and  deepened  the  lustre  of  his  eye.  He 
paused  for  a  moment  in  his  descent,  on  the  pinnacle 
of  a  very  high  crag,  and,  shading  his  eyes  with  his 
hand,  gazed  eagerly  down  the  river. 

As  he  turned  his  head,  and  saw  the  young  ladies, 
he  stepped  for  the  first  time  into  the  path.  Charlotte 
was  somewhat  timid  about  going  on,  but  Honora  as- 
sured her  Chet  was  perfectly  friendly.  As  he  stood 
one  side  to  allow  them  to  pass,  Honora  said,  kindly, 
"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Chetwood.  How  is  Rosa  ? " 

"  Rosa  is  better ;  thanks  to  Miss  Nora's  kindness," 
he  replied,  bowing. 

"How  is  Aunt  Polly  this  afternoon?"  inquired  Ho- 
nora ;  "  we  came  down  to  see  her." 

"  Failing  fast,"  he  said,  sadly ;  "  she  is  in  another 
fit  just  now.  I  came  out  to  look  for  the  Doctor;  he 
has  not  seen  her  since  two  days.  White  folks  must 
be  attended  first,"  he  added,  bitterly,  suddenly  turning 
^way,  and  springing  from  rock  to  rock  till  he  was  out 
of  sight. 

There  could  be  no  mistake  in  Aunt  Polly's  descent 


THE    GORGE.  81 

in  a  direct  line  from  Ham.  For  more  than  forty  years, 
she  had  been  known  in  and  about  Rockridge  by  the 
appellation  of  "Aunt  Polly;"  having  served  in  many 
families,  but  always  keeping  her  tumble-down  hut  at 
the  Gorge  as  a  home.  Observation  and  experience 
will  show  that  the  instinctive  love  for  the  little  spot 
called  "  home "  is  perhaps  deeper  in  the  heart  of  the 
negro  than  in  that  of  his  more  fortunate  white  brother. 
It  is  rare  to  meet  a  free  colored  person,  even  in  ex- 
treme poverty,  who  would  exchange  his  wretched  hut 
to  live  permanently  in  any  family. 

The  motley  group  that  filled  "Aunt  Polly's"  hovel 
were  dispersed  by  the  entrance  of  the  young  ladies. 
There  was  every  shade  of  color,  and  almost  every  age, 
assembled  in  the  room :  shouting,  crying,  praying,  were 
all  carried  on  in  a  breath.  The  sick  woman  lay  in  a 
stupor,  and  they,  supposing  her  dying,  had  assembled 
to  speed  the  parting  spirit  Orbie,  Aunt  Polly's  only 
child,  was  left  highly  indignant  by  the  loss  of  so  much 
good  company;  and  when  Miss  Morgan  told  her  per- 
haps her  mother's  life  depended  on  her  being  kept 
quiet,  she  replied  testily,  "  It 's  hard  keepin'  neigh- 
bors out,  when  folks  is  sick."  To  Honora,  it  seemed 
4*  r 


82  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

all-important  that  Dr.  Woodbury  should  see  his  pa- 
tient at  once,  and  she  looked  about  outside  the  hut 
for  some  one  to  send  for  him ;  but  the  group  of 
attentive  neighbors  had  entirely  disappeared.  Almost 
perpendicularly  above  her  was  the  stone  hut  of  Chet, 
and  he  standing  in  the  doorway.  She  beckoned  to  him, 
and  he  was  before  her  almost  immediately.  "  Chet," 
she  said  in  a  tremulous  voice,  frightened  by  the  rapidity 
with  which  he  had  descended  the  rocks,  "  will  you  go 
to  Dr.  Woodbury,  and  say  to  him  Miss  Clarendon 
urgently  begs  that  he  will  come  now,  with  you,  and 
see  Aunt  Polly;  and  Chet,"  she  added,  lowering  her 
voice,  "can't  you  prevent  all  this  noise  and  confusion 
in  the  sick-room." 

"  The  dirty  black  crew ! "  he  said  contemptuously. 
"No  wonder  white  folks  treat  them  like  dogs!  And 
yet,"  he  added,  fiercely,  "who  made  them  what  they 
are  ?  Who  degraded  them  ? "  He  did  not  wait  for  a 
reply,  but,  running  down  the  rocks  to  the  river,  seized 
his  oars,  jumped  into  the  boat,  and  was  out  of  sight 
before  Honora  went  into  the  hut. 

It  was  but  a  short  time  ere  Chet  returned,  accom- 
panied by  Dr.  Woodbury,  a  spruce,  precise  little  man, 


THE    GORGE.  83 

full  of  apologies  to  Miss  Clarendon  because  he  had  not 
seen  his  patient  that  day,  and  disagreeable  compliments 
to  herself  and  Miss  Morgan  for  their  unheard-of  kind- 
ness, in  walking  so  far  to  see  "this  sort  of  people." 
As  Honora  met  him  often  in  her  visits  to  the  sick,  and 
it  was  his  invariable  custom  to  talk  in  this  way,  his 
conversation  made  no  impression  upon  her,  but  Char- 
lotte's good  sense  was  so  disgusted,  that  she  could  hardly 
reply  civilly.  Chet  stood  in  the  doorway,  his  whole  face 
and  attitude  expressive  of  utter  contempt  for  the  little 
Doctor  and  his  compliments.  Active  measures  soon  re- 
stored Aunt  Polly  to  consciousness,  and  the  gracious 
disciple  of  Galen  departed,  after  Honora  had  requested 
him  to  come  daily  to  the  hut,  and  referred  him  to  her 
father  for  his  fee. 

Miss  Morgan  bathed  the  forehead  and  hands  of  the 
sick  woman,  and  Honora  arranged  her  bed  and  dress 
with  tenderness  and  care. 

"  Lord  bless  you,  ladies,"  said  Aunt  Polly,  when  she 
found  her  voice,  "I  thought  my  speerit  was  gone,  but 
He  knows  best!  The  Lord  be  praised  for  all  His 
marcies !  It  is  kind  on  you  to  come  and  see  us  poor 
folks,  but  you'll  get  your  reward.  'In'smuch  as  ye 


84  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

done  it  to  the  least  on  um,'- —  don't  it  say  so?"  she 
said,  putting  her  hand  on  a  greasy  Testament  that  lay 
by  the  bedside. 

"  Shall  I  read  to  you,  Aunt  Polly  ? "  said  Honora, 
taking  the  book.  In  a  low  voice  she  read  the  thir- 
teenth chapter  of  St.  John's  Gospel.  This  account  of 
the  most  touching  service  of  Christ  to  his  disciples 
seemed  almost  new  to  Charlotte.  So  deep  was  the  im- 
pression, that  she  said  to  herself,  "  Why  is  it  that  I  am 
not  what  Honora  Clarendon  is  ? "  An  earnest  desire 
to  embrace  everybody  with  her  affections  sprung  up  in 
her  soul.  Honora  read  prayers  from  the  Office  for  the 
Visitation  of  the  Sick.  When  they  rose  from  their 
knees,  Chet  was  in  a  retired  corner  of  the  room,  his 
head  bowed  on  his  hands,  where  he  remained  unmoved 
till  the  ladies  left  the  hut.  He  followed  them,  however, 
before  they  had  gone  far,  offering  to  row  them  home 
by  the  short  cut,  round  the  bluff;  but  they  declined, 
as  they  were  to  carry  their  report  to  Dr.  Walbridge 
from  Aunt  Polly,  on  their  way  through  the  village. 

"  What  a  singular  being ! "  said  Miss  Morgan,  turn- 
ing about  to  look  at  Chet,  as  he  leaped  from  crag  to 
crag.  "  Honora,  is  he  really  Paps/s  brother  ? " 


THE    GORGE.  85 

"Yes,"  replied  Honora,  with  some  hesitancy,  —  "per- 
haps only  half-brother.  They  had  the  same  mother." 

"  Pap>y  is  the  darker  of  the  two,"  replied  Charlotte. 

"  Her  skin  is  darker,  but  her  hair  and  eyes  are 
lighter,"  replied  Honora.  "If  Chet  had  been  relig- 
iously educated,  he  might  do  incalculable  good  in  this 
neighborhood.  They  all  look  up  to  him,  and  he  guides 
them  like  a  leader." 

"  Is  he  a  bad  man  ? "  inquired  Charlotte,  turning 
round  again  to  look  after  him. 

"  He  is  honest  and  truthful  as  the  best,"  replied  her 
companion.  "  I  would  trust  him  anywhere ;  but  he 
has  the  Indian  revenge,  and  it  would  not  be  wise  to 
make  him  an  enemy.  He  is  firm  and  unfaltering  as  a 
friend.  He  would  brave  any  danger  to  serve  my  father 
or  Gregory,  because  they  took  his  part  in  some  town 
quarrel  about  the  school,  in  which  the  Anglo-Saxon 
blood  sought  to  crush  Chet  He  has  never  forgotten 
it,  and  any  favor  he  can  do  us  as  a  family  is  done  with 
zeal.  Gregory  and  he  are  fast  friends. 


THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

AN  UNWELCOME  ENCOUNTER. 

"  There  is  some  soul  of  goodness  in  things  evil, 
Would  men  observingly  distil  it  out." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

"  Other  men's  sins  we  ever  bear  in  mind, 
None  sees  the  fardel  of  his  faults  behind." 

HERRICK. 

THE  SUN  had  disappeared  behind  the  western 
bluff,  and  the  Gorge  grew  dark,  before  the  ladies 
came  out  into  the  village.  There  the  sky  was  bright 
with  many-colored  clouds.  The  call  upon  Dr.  Wai- 
bridge  was  short,  and  they  had  closed  the  Rectory  gate 
and  turned  homewards,  when  three  persons  approached 
them  as  if  by  accident.  They  proved  to  be  Tom 
Ridgway  and  his  sisters,  who  had  planned  the  meeting 
when  they  saw  Miss  Clarendon  enter  the  Rectoiy  gate. 
Much  to  the  annoyance  of  Honora,  and  the  vexation 
of  Charlotte,  they  insisted  upon  seeing  the  ladies  home. 


AN  UNWELCOME  ENCOUNTER.      87 

In  vain  Ilonora  and  Charlotte  assured  them  they 
were  not  at  all  afraid.  They  declared  they  would 
either  leave  Tom  to  attend  them,  or  they  would  all 
go ;  of  course  the  latter  proposition  was  the  more  ac- 
ceptable. 

"  You  have  been  to  the  Gorge  ? "  said  the  elder  Miss 
Ridgway,  taking  Honora's  arm.  "  What  a  horrid  place 
it  is !  I  should  think  you  'd  be  afraid  to  be  thei*e  so 
late  as  this." 

"  We  have  been  to  see  Aunt  Polly,"  replied  Miss 
Clarendon;  "she  is  very  ill." 

"  Is  it  possible ! "  exclaimed  Eliza,  "  I  am  surprised 
that  I  had  not  heard  of  it ;  I  really  must  go  down 
to-morrow.  If  I  had  known  you  were  going,  I  would 
gladly  have  made  one  of  the  company.  It  is  a  de- 
lightful duty  in  which  you  have  been  engaged,"  she 
said,  taking  Miss  Morgan's  arm,  "visiting  the  sick  and 
destitute.  One  really  feels  as  if  one  was  doing  some- 
thing." 

No  one  replied  to  this  sage  remark,  and  she  pro- 
ceeded. "It  is  one  of  my  pleasantest  duties,  I  may 
say,  only,"  she  added  in  an  undertone,  as  if  address- 
ing Charlotte,  "  there  are  so  many  persons  I  meet  in 


88  THE    CHAPEL    OF   ST.    MARY. 

my  visits  with  whom  I  am  diffident  about  speaking  on 
the  subject  that  interests  us  most." 

"  Is  it  possible  ? "  replied  Charlotte,  with  a  slight 
shade  of  irony  in  her  tone. 

'.'Yes,  Miss  Morgan,"  she  said,  in  a  more  confiden- 
tial manner,  "  I  often  find  it  so.  Persons  of  my  sen- 
sitive nature  and  conscientious  temperament  have  many 
struggles  in  their  efforts  to  do  good.  I  have  often 
wished  we  had  a  clergyman  who  would  enter  more 
into  the  feelings  of  his  people,  and  would  go  with  me 
sometimes  in  my  walks  of  benevolence.  A  clergyman's 
wife,  too,  might  do  so  much  in  this  way !  but  poor  Mrs. 
Walbridge  is  so  deficient  in  this  respect." 

"  Perhaps,"  suggested  Charlotte,  "  she  finds  many 
young  ladies  in  the  parish  who  can  perform  the  duties 
much  better  than  herself,  and  she  refrains  on  that  ac- 
count." 

"Perhaps  so,"  replied  Eliza,  doubtfully;  "but  I  do 
think  a  clergyman's  wife  should  visit  the  poor." 

"  Most  country  minister's  wives,"  said  Tom,  in  a  sar- 
castic tone,  "  could  not  perform  that  duty  better  than 
by  staying  at  home.  They  rarely  find  many  in  their 
parishes  that  suffer  more  from  stinted  means  than  their 
own  families." 


AN  UNWELCOME  ENCOUNTER.      89 

"  But  don't  you  think,  Miss  Clarendon,"  said  Eliza, 
finding  Charlotte  did  not  reply,  "  that  we  need  a  more 
active  clergyman  than  Dr.  Walbridge.  Look  at  the 
Gorge,  —  see  its  spiritual  destitution  !  It  really  makes 
my  heart  ache  when  1  go  down  there,  and  find  so. 
many  who  spiritually  do  not  know  their  right  hand  from 
their  left." 

"  More  might  he  effected  there,"  said  Honora  quietly, 
"  hy  a  missionary,  perhaps,  than  by  a  settled  clergyman, 
with  so  large  a  parish  as  Dr.  Walbridge,  and  so  many 
calls  upon  his  time." 

"  Elder  Sparks  visits  there  a  great  deal,"  suggested 
Eliza,  "and  he  says  the  field  is  ripe  for  the  harvest. 
It  seems  a  pity  that  our  Church  should  not  have  her 
share  of  the  reaping." 

"  She  surely  will,  Miss  Kidgway,"  said  Charlotte,  in 
a  very  decided  tone,  "  if  her  children  are  faithful  to  her 
teachings,  and  'do  their  duty  in  that  state  of  life  into 
which  it  hath  pleased  God  to  call  them.' " 

"Do  you  know  the  young  clergyman  at  Ridgeville?" 
said  Eliza,  addressing  Honora,  after  a  short  pause. 
"  Pupa  says  he  never  saw  so  busy  a  man.  He  is  in 
the  factories  talking  with  the  operatives,  urging  the 


90  THE    CHAPEL     OF    ST.    MARY. 

people  to  church,  visiting  everybody,  and  making  him- 
self one  with  his  flock." 

"  My  brother  is  somewhat  acquainted  with  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Clement,"  replied  Honora,  "  and  was  delighted  with 
the  systematic  operations  in  his  parish." 

"  O  yes ! "  said  Eliza,  with  animation,  "  Mr.  Claren- 
don, with  his  zeal  and  earnestness,  would  not  fail  to 
appreciate  these  sterling  qualities  in  another." 

The  company  had  arrived  at  Woodland  Bluff,  and 
Charlotte,  wearied  with  the  conversation  -more  than  the 
walk,  determined  to  remain  there  for  a  while.  Honora 
invited  them  to  walk  in,  but  an  opportune  thunder- 
cloud, which  Miss  Morgan  carefully  pointed  out,  pre- 
vented, and  they  turned  homewards. 

"  How  can  you  bear  this  so  stoically  ? "  said  Char- 
lotte, taking  a  seat  near  a  window  and  fanning  herself 
violently.  "  I  am  irritated  and  chafed  by  that  girl's 
insufferable  self-conceit  and  self-righteousness  to  such  a 
degree  that  I  am  unfit  society  for  any  one  just  now. 
How  can  you  bear  it,  Honora?" 

"  How  can  I  help  it,  Charlotte  ?  I  really  pity  her." 

"  Pity  her !  Don't  say  that.  It  makes  me  more  in- 
dignant than  ever.  Pity  her!  Pity  poor  Dr.  Wai- 
bridge,  who  has  such  a  lynx-eyed  inspector ! " 


AN  UNWELCOME  ENCOUNTER.      91 

"Now,  really,  Charlotte,  you  are  too  severe.  This 
girl  means  well." 

"  She  means  well  to  herself,  no  doubt,"  replied  Char- 
lotte ;  "  I  have  no  pity  for  failings  like  hers." 

"And  yet,"  said  Honora,  gravely,  "in  the  sight  of 
Heaven  ours  may  be  the  greater  faults." 

"  I  sit  reproved,  Honora.  I  know  I  am  impatient 
with  the  faults  of  others." 

"  Particularly  when  they  offend  your  taste,"  said 
Honora,  as  if  finishing  the  sentence  for  her  friend. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  replied  Charlotte,  "  but  tell  me,  was 
your  calmness  real,  or  were  there  workings  of  in- 
dignation underneath  during  the  harangue  upon  Miss 
Ridgway's  goodness  and  Dr.  Walbridge's  deficiencies?" 

"  Probably  I  should  have  been  more  moved  than 
yourself  if  this  had  been  the  first  time  ;  but  I  have 
sought  out  palliating  circumstances  so  often,  to  help 
Gregory  to  calmness  when  he  gets  outrageous  on  the 
subject,  that  —  " 

"  Then  Gregory  does  get  angry  about  it  ?  "  said  Char- 
lotte. "  I  am  glad  I  shall  have  him  to  sympathize  with 
me.  Excuse  me  for  interrupting,  but  it  is  pleasant  to 
know  that  one  upright  as  Gregory  has  the  same  temp- 


92  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

tations  with  one's  self.  But,  seriously,  Honora,  you  must 
tell  me  the  '  palliating  circumstances,'  that  I  may  not 
give  this  lady  a,  piece  of  my  mind,  should  I  be  sub- 
jected to  the  same  trial  again." 

"In  the  first  place,  then,"  replied  Honora,  "she  has 
received  no  religious  training.  Her  parents  belong  no- 
where religiously,  though  they  attend  Elder  Sparks's 
ministrations.  The  girls  came  into  our  parish,  I  do 
not  know  why ;  but  since  they  came,  Elder  Sparks  has 
not  ceased  to  flatter  Eliza  upon  her  superior  sanctity, 
till  she  thinks  she  is  a  model  of  what  a  religious 
woman  —  especially,  Gregory  says,  a  female  member 
of  the  '  Protestant  Episcopal  Church '  —  ought  to  be." 

"A  lump  of  Attic  salt!  ha,  Honora?"  said  Charlotte. 

"  That  is  like  Gregory,"  replied  Miss  Clarendon. 
"  I  would  not  repeat  all  he  has  said  to  me,  after  she 
has  tormented  him  with  her  flatteries,  and  the  times  he 
has  wished  her  anywhere  but  with  us.  But  I  cannot 
feel  thus ;  for  though  it  may  seem  to  us  that  we  were 
better  without  such  spirits,  it  is  not  ours  to  pick  and 
choose." 

"Always  right,  my  dear  Honora,"  said  her  frieud. 
"  I  see  it  all  as  plainly  as  you  do ;  and  yet,  unlike  you, 


AN    UNWELCOME     ENCOUNTER.  93 

I  cannot  look  upon  Miss  Eliza  Ridgway  with  a  parti- 
cle of  complacency." 

The  ladies  were  interrupted  in  their  conversation  by 
the  entrance  of  Colonel  Clarendon,  with  a  letter  from 
Gregory.  It  was  hurried  and  brief,  for  he  wa-  pre- 
paring for  his  graduation.  His  Roman  Catholic  friend, 
Pierre  M'Lellan,  had  been  called  suddenly  home  by 
the  death  of  his  father,  at  the  commencement  of  the 
term,  and  therefore  the  hope  that  Gregory  had  ex- 
pressed to  Honora,  that  he  would  pass  the  vacation 
with  him  at  Woodland,  could  not  be  realized.  Claren- 
don, intent  upon  doing  a  kindness,  had  invited  a  young 
artist,  with  whom  he  had  a  pleasant  acquaintance  of 
some  two  or  tliree  years  standing,  and  who  appeared 
to  be  without  family  friends  to  return  with  him.  This 
young  man,  Robert  Walton,  was  somewhat  out  of  health. 
It  had  been  difficult  for  Gregory  to  persuade  him  to 
leave  his  close  application  to  business,  even  for  a  few 
weeks;  but  at  length  he  had  consented,  allured  by  the 
hope  of  rest,  and  the  refreshment  he  always  found  in 
the  society  of  Clarendon. 

Honora  closed  the  letter  with  a  sensation  of  relief. 
She  .had  dreaded  the  influence  of  Pierre  upon  her 


94  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

brother;  of  Walton  she  knew  nothing,  except  that 
Gregory  spoke  of  him  as  one  whom  he  highly  re- 
spected for  his  firm  religious  principles. 

Colonel  Clarendon,  an  ardent  lover  of  the  fine  arts, 
was  deh'ghted  with  the  prospect  of  an  artist,  who  would 
be  able  to  sketch  some  of  the  wild  scenery  about  Ilock- 
ridge. 

Aunt  Martha  (the  housekeeper)  was  disturbed  by  the 
idea  of  receiving  so  unceremoniously  an  artist  and  an 
invalid.  She  told  several  ancient  tales  of  artists  who 
had  proved  villains,  and  invalids  who  had  died  on  peo- 
ple's hands.  Honora's  repeated  assurances  that  Greg- 
ory would  not  invite  any  one  to  his  home  without  a 
knowledge  of  their  character  failed  to  convince  the 
careful  old  lady  that  her  fears  were  groundless. 


THE    CKUSHED    HEART.  95 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE  CRUSHED  HEART. 

"  Upon  her  face  there  was  the  tint  of  grief, 
The  settled  sorrow  of  an  inward  strife, 
And  an  unquiet  drooping  of  the  eye, 
As  if  its  lid  were  charged  with  unshed  tears." 

BYRON. 

THE  NEXT  week,  while  the  family  at  Woodland 
were  making  changes  in  their  domestic  arrange- 
ments to  accommodate  Clarendon  and  his  friend,  Colo- 
nel Clarendon  was  interrupted  in  advising  Honora  to 
give  up  the  little  breakfast-room  as  a  studio  pro  tern 
to  the  expected  artist,  by  the  sharp,  spectacled  eyes 
and  quaint  figure  of  his  neighbor,  Mr.  Douglass.  His 
countenance  betokened  restlessness,  and  the  Colonel, 
who  saw  at  once  that  he  desired  a  private  interview, 
led  the  way  to  the  library.  It  appeared  that  he  had 
heard,  through  the  last  mail,  that  a  large  property  in 
Canada  had,  by  some  unforeseen  event,  fallen  to  Mrs. 


96  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

Douglass.  To  obtain  a  true  title  to  the  estate,  his 
presence  was  necessary  there,  probably  for  two  months 
or  more,  and  there  was  a  possibility  that  he  might 
have  to  go  to  Scotland  before  matters  could  be  set- 
tled satisfactorily ;  and  who  could  he  leave  in  care 
of  his  family  and  estate  at  Maple  Cliff?  There  was 
no  head  there.  Mrs.  Douglass  was  no  more  than  a 
child  to  leave  in  charge. 

"  I  can't  think  of  any  one  more  suitable  than  your 
nephew  Chauncey,  Agatha's  eldest  brother,"  said  Colo- 
nel Clarendon,  after  much  talk  and  many  plans.  "  He 
loves  farming  and  dislikes  mercantile  life,  has  no  de- 
sire to  go  to  California  with  the  family,  and  you  have 
only  to  offer  bim  sufficient  inducement  to  secure  his 
services." 

The  frown  grew  very  dark  on  Mr.  Douglass's  brow, 
as  he  said,  "Yes,  and  bring  the  whole  troop  of  my 
brother's  boys  and  girls  in  his  trail,  to  be  left  on  my 
hands  while  Sidney  seeks  his  fortune ! " 

"That  does  not  follow,"  replied  the  Colonel.  "His 
stay  need  be  but  short,  and  I  have  an  idea  your 
greatest  difficulty  will  be  in  surmounting  the  pride  that 
would  keep  him  away,  after  your  gentle  hints  about 
Agatha's  in'.eroourse  \vith  her  early  friends." 


THE    CRUSHED    HEART.  97 

The  frown  grew  a  shade  less,  and  after  a  half-hour 
the  resolution  was  made,  and  Chauncey  Douglass,  with 
ample  offers  of  remuneration,  (for  Mr.  Douglass,  with 
all  liis  faults,  was  not  niggardly,)  was  invited  to  take 
the  charge  of  affairs  at  Maple  Cliff,  during  his  uncle's 
absence.  Agatha's  delight  to  meet  her  brother,  who 
came  on  immediately,  was  unbounded;  for  though  he 
always  loved  to  tease  her  at  home,  still  he  was  Very 
dear  to  her.  She  tried  in  vain  to  enlist  Papsy  in  her 
joyful  feelings,  but  that  poor  girl  was  changed.  She 
had  grown  more  taciturn,  till  now  even  Agatha  could 
only  extract  from  her  an  occasional  monosyllable.  She 
would  sit  for  hours  under  the  cliffs  that  overhung  the 
river,  looking  languidly  into  the  water,  apparently  lost 
in  dreamy  abstraction.  She  absented  herself  more  and 
more  from  the  house,  and  altogether  from  the  Sunday 
school.  Honora  in  vain  endeavored  to  meet  her. 

After  Mr.  Douglass's  departure,  a  cloud  seemed  lifted 
from  the  household,  the  servants  moved  more  freely, 
and  Agatha,  restored  to  the  society  of  one  she  had  loved 
from  infancy,  went  running  and  singing  about  like  a 
brook  when  the  icy  bands  of  winter  are  removed.  The 
mi-t rc>>  of  the  house  alone  remained  unchanged.  Her 
5  G 


98  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

frightened  air  and  timid  step  had  become  habitual  to 
her,  through  a  life  of  bitter  experience.  Indifference 
and  hardness  would  have  been  the  result  of  her  trials 
on  one  possessed  of  native  strength  and  self-depend- 
ence; the  continual  dropping  would  have  changed  the 
nature  to  stone.  But  her  loving,  sensitive,  but  weak 
spirit  vibrated  and  trembled  still,  under  the  severe  dis- 
cipline to  which  she  was  subjected. 

When  Miss  Morgan  entered  on  her  life  at  Maple 
Cliff,  she  had  been  tempted  almost  to  despise  Mrs. 
Douglass  for  her  weakness ;  but  when  she  came  to 
know  her,  and  witness  her  daily  sufferings,  all  the  pity 
of  her  soul  was  drawn  out  to  her,  and  she  strove  to 
alleviate  the  sorrows  of  her  life  by  delicate  attentions 
and  acts  of  consideration.  Charlotte  could  be  sympa- 
thetic ;  her  heart  went  out  freely  in  sorrow  for  the  mis- 
eries of  others ;  it  was  a  want  of  tenderness  for  follies, 
to  which  she  had  no  temptation,  that  gave  her  a  cold, 
and  at  times  a  sarcastic  manner.  She  pitied  Mrs.  Doug- 
lass, and  this  pity  deepened,  till  it  became  one  of  the 
distinct  aims  of  her  life  at  Maple  Cliff  to  soothe  and 
comfort  the  mistress  of  the  house.  Little  by  little  she 
had  won  the  confidence  of  the  crushed  heart,  and  learned 


THE    CRUSHED    HEART.  99 

that  Mrs.  Douglass  was  not  indifferent  to  the  high  hopes 
of  a  future  life.  Charlotte's  firmness  and  decision  were 
what  she  needed ;  by  them  she  was  led  to  the  contem- 
plation of  her  highest  duties,  and  to  the  prospect  of 
comfort  in  the  performance  of  them,  which  would  re- 
move the  bitterest  sting  of  life.  Charlotte  was  the 
first  and  only  person  to  whom  she  had  confided  her 
sufferings,  and  the  effect  and  fear  afterwards,  brought 
on  an  illness  that  confined  her  to  her  bed  several  days. 
Papsy  was  her  only  attendant,  and  this,  with  the  fact 
that  there  was  no  notice  taken  of  her  illness  by  any 
of  the  family,  surprised  Miss  Morgan.  There  was 
something  mysterious  about  the  matter.  Charlotte  had 
sought  admittance  to  Mrs.  Douglass's  room,  but  the 
door  was  always  bolted.  Fearing  the  sufferer  was 
neglected,  she  determined  by  stealth  to  obtain  an  en- 
trance, and,  following  Papsy,  she  opened  the  door  be- 
fore the  girl  had  time  to  turn  the  key.  The  color 
deepened  on  Papsy's  yellow  skin,  and  her  forefinger 
was  raised  in  a  menacing  attitude.  Nothing  daunted, 
Miss  Morgan  approached  the  chair  where  Mrs.  Doug- 
lass sat  like  a  statue,  perfectly  motionless,  though  her 
eyes  were  opened ;  but  from  their  depths  came  no  ray 


100  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

of  intellect.  Qiarlotte  spoke,  but  there  was  no  reply, 
only  a  vacant  stare,  and  the  hand  she  raised  was  cold 
and  lifeless. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this,  Papsy?"  said  Miss 
Morgan  inquiringly ;  "  what  is  the  matter  with  Mrs. 
Douglass  ?  " 

The  attendant  made  no  answer,  but  rested  her  head 
moodily  against  the  window. 

"  Has  she  had  attacks  like  this  before  ? "  persevered 
Charlotte. 

Still  no  answer. 

"You  must  tell  me  about  this  Papsy,  or  I  shall 
surely  call  in  a  physician?" 

"  Better  not,"  was  the  response. 

Miss  Morgan  felt  that  she  could  not  leave  Mrs.  Doug- 
lass thus,  with  such  meagre  attendance,  and  be  at  ease. 
Chauncey  Douglass  had  not  left  the  library,  and,  though 
he  was  almost  a  stranger,  he  was  the  nominal  head  of 
the  house,  and  she  would  consult  him.  She  found  the 
young  man  smoking,  with  Agatha  on  his  knee.  He 
at  once  removed  his  cigar,  placed  a  chair,  and  begged 
her  to  be  seated.  She  apologized  for  the  intrusion  by 
saying  that  something  had  come  to  her  knowledge  in 
the  family  that  she  felt  he  should  inquire  into.  Under- 


THE    CRUSHED    HEART.  101 

standing  her  look  toward  Agatha,  he  said,  "We  will 
not  send  Aggie  away  if  you  please.  I  have  always 
found  her  trusty."  Then  speaking  more  playfully,  he 
added,  "  We  seem  to  be  the  rightful  heads  of  the  family 
at  present,  and  if  you  are  of  the  same  mind,  we  will 
take  this  little  girl,  who  has  good  judgment  for  her 
years,  into  our  confidence." 

Miss  Morgan  was  glad  to  escape  a  tete-a-tete  confer- 
ence with  the  young  man,  and  proceeded  to  state  the 
case  of  Mrs.  Douglass. 

His  countenance  did  not  express  the  surprise  she 
expected,  but  a  look  of  horror  filled  Agatha's  large  eyes. 

"I  am  sorry,"  replied  Chauncey  to  her  recital,  "that 
this  unfortunate  trouble  should  have  come  to  your 
knowledge.  My  uncle  confided  to  me  the  secret  of 
my  poor  aunt's  illness,  assured  me  that  she  had  been 
subject  to  attacks  of  partial  insanity  for  years,  had 
been  pronounced  incurable  by  the  best  medical  advice, 
and  would  be  cared  for  by  Papsy,  who  was  accustomed 
to  this  duty." 

Charlotte  was  satisfied  by  this  information ;  and  de- 
sired more  than  ever,  when  Mrs.  Douglass  should  be 
restored  to  conscious  reason,  to  relieve  a  life  that  must 
necessarily  be  a  heavy  burden. 


102  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

A  VISIT  TO  THE  GORGE. 

"  Fie !  fie !  unknit  that  threat'ning  unkind  brow, 
And  dart  not  scornful  glances  from  those  eyes; 
It  blots  thy  beauty,  as  frosts  bite  the  meads, 
Confounds  thy  fame,  as  whirlwinds  shake  fair  buds, 
And  in  no  sense  is  meet  or  amiable." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

"T1TTE  PROPOSE,"  said  Gregory  Clarendon  to 
f  T  Miss  Morgan,  as  he  rose,  with  his  friend 
Walton,  to  take  leave  after  a  morning  call  at  Maple 
Cliff,  "  to  spend  to-morrow  in  the  Gorge ;  will  you  join 
us?  Mr.  Walton  is  to  select  the  finest  point  from 
which  to  sketch  a  view  of  the  valley ;  it  will  take  us 
the  hest  part  of  the  day  to  look  through  the  wild  place, 
and  we  will  have  a  pleasant  tea-drinking  in  some  of 
the  fastnesses.  What  say  you,  Douglass  ?  " 

Chauncey  was  delighted   with   the   proposition,   and 
accepted   the   invitation   at   once.     Clarendon   ohserved 


A    VISIT    TO    THE    GORGE.  103 

the  doubtful  expression  on  Miss  Morgan's  face,  as  she 
looked  toward  Agatha,  who  was  carelessly  turning  over 
a  portfolio  of  fine  engravings,  trying  to  appear  unin- 
terested in  the  result,  but  evidently  impatient  to  be 
one  of  the  company  for  the  excursion.  Gregory  came 
near  the  child,  and,  stooping  over  her,  he  said,  "  Miss 
Charlotte,  I  shall  take  this  little  one  for  my  compan- 
ion, so  you  may  put  no  obstructions  in  our  path."  Aga- 
tha raised  her  long  lashes  to  meet  his  pleasant  smile, 
and  they  were  wet  with  tears.  The  engraving  she 
held  represented  a  child  in  the  midst  of  a  wild  storm, 
sheltered  under  the  whig  of  an  angel. 

"I  don't  believe,"  she  said,  wiping  her  eyes,  "that 
I  have  any  guardian  angel.  Only  pleasant,  agreeable, 
gentle  children  have  guardian  angels,  —  children  that 
always  do  just  as  they're  told,  and  never  have  any 
will  of  their  own,  like  Anne  Walbridge." 

"What's  the  trouble,  little  one?"  he  said,  playfully 
stroking  her  bright  curls. 

"  I  want  to  go  to  the  Gorge,"  she  replied  earnestly. 
"I  want  to  see  Mr.  Walton  sketch;  but  I  know  I'm 
not  wanted,"  she  said,  looking  after  Charlotte  a  little 
spitefully,  as  she  stepped  on  to  the  balcony  with  the 


104  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

others  of  the  company,  to  see  the  fine  views  about 
the  house.  "  Of  course  I  shall  not  go ! "  she  added, 
haughtily. 

"  Well  done,  my  little  maiden,"  said  Clarendon. 
"  Pray  how  old  are  you  ? " 

"  I  am  in  my  fifteenth  year,"  she  said,  drawing  her- 
self up  to  her  full  height. 

"  You  are  really  quite  a  young  lady,"  he  replied, 
smiling  at  her  efforts  to  make  her  very  small,  slender 
figure  appear  large  in  his  eyes.  "  But  I  have  taken 
you  for  my  special  charge  to-morrow,  as  you  have 
heard,  if  you  like  to  go  with  such  an  escort." 

The  frown  passed  from  Agatha's  face ;  and  in  a  few 
moments  she  was  conversing  freely  with  her  companion. 
Among  other  things,  they  spoke  of  different  places  and 
people  at  the  Gorge,  and  the  little  girl  displayed  a 
familiarity  with  that  locality  that  surprised  Clarendon. 

"  Do  you  go  to  the  Gorge  .often  ? "  he  said  gravely. 

The  child  colored,  but,  reassured  by  his  kind  manner, 
she  replied,  looking  confidingly  into  his  face :  "  Yes,  I 
go  there  always  with  Papsy,  when  we  go  to  walk.  Miss 
Morgan  hates  Papsy,  because  her  skin  is  yeilow.  But 
she  can't  help  that,  you  know.  Miss  Morgan  don't  like 
I  should  go  with  her,  but  I  do." 


A    VISIT    TO    THE    GOEGE.  105 

"  Miss  Charlotte  does  not  hate  Papsy,  my  child," 
replied  Gregory ;  "  she  naturally  wishes  to  introduce 
you  into  more  improving  society.  But  is  your  uncle 
willing  you  should  go  to  these  places,  and  among  these 
people  ?  " 

"  O  .yes,"  she  added  eagerly  ;  "  I  heard  him  say  there 
was  but  a  shade  of  difference  between  you  and  Chet." 

Gregory  colored,  but  laughed  heartily.  "I  am 
obliged  to  your  uncle  for  the  compliment.  We  are 
both  dark,  —  Chet,  however,  will  bear  the  palm  for 
beauty.  But,  Agatha,"  he  said  in  an  undertone,  "do 
you  ever  hear  from  Dick  Walbridge  at  the  Gorge  ? " 

"  0  no ! "  she  exclaimed  hastily,  "  that  is  what  troubles 
Papsy ;  he  promised  —  "  She  checked  herself,  for,  in 
her  admiration  for  Gregory,  and  her  confidential  free- 
dom, she  had  said  more  than  she  intended. 

"  Ah ! "  said  Gregory,  and  changed  the  subject,  with 
an  inward  feeling  of  regret  that  her  youthful  mind 
should  be  made  the  repository  of  Papsy's  peculiar  sor- 
rows. 

The  next  day  was  a  hazy  July  day,  not  uncomfort- 
ably warm;  indeed,  the  wind,  as  they  sailed  round 
the  bluff,  came  down  through  the  Gorge,  causing  Ho- 


106  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

nora  to  draw  her  shawl  about  her.  Chet  plied  the 
oars,  while  Clarendon  stood  at  the  helm.  Robert  "Wal- 
ton sat  near  the  bow  of  the  tiny  vessel,  in  silence,  while 
Honora,  unobserved,  watched  the  variations  of  his  calm, 
sorrowful  face.  There  was  a  strange  mingling  in  his 
countenance.  He  seemed  born  with  a  happy,  joyous 
nature,  intensely  sensitive,  and  keenly  alive  to  the  beau- 
tiful ;  but  some  great  sorrow  had  marked  him,  and  the 
smiles,  when  they  came  to  his  lips,  were  broken  by 
a  look  of  sadness  that  went  to  the  heart  of  the  be- 
holder. 

There  was  a  fascination  about  him  to  Honora;  it 
might  be  the  sympathy  of  suffering.  A  great  grief 
had  shut  up  her  heart  to  the  influence  of  any  love 
but  that  of  a  friend ;  but  it  seemed  to  her,  if  she  could 
know  his  sorrow,  she  might  soothe.  He  \vas  older  than 
either  Gregory  or  Chauncey,  but,  unlike  them,  his  fig- 
ure was  slight,  and  his  hands  and  feet  delicate  as  a 
girl's.  It  is  meet  to  say  he  was  beautiful,  with  his 
fair,  high  forehead,  shaded  with  chestnut  curls,  his  soft, 
deep  blue  eye,  and  every  feature  delicately  chiselled ; 
but  it  was  a  beauty  marked  out  for  the  grave.  Honora 
observed  an  increase  of  sadness,  and  sometimes  a  look 


A    VISIT    TO    THE    GORGE.  107 

of  distress,  when  Agatha,  full  of  buoyant  spirits,  ran 
before  him,  teasing  Clarendon  to  let  her  steer  the  boat. 

"  Chet,  we  '11  take  the  lower  landing,"  said  Gregory, 
turning  to  Chet,  whose  broad  chest  and  brawny  arms 
worked  at  the  oars. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  he,  proudly. 

"  No  one  lives  in  the  cottage  we  used  to  call  the 
'Bird's  Nest,'"  remarked  Gregory.  "I  am  of  opinion 
the  finest  view  of  the  whole  valley  will  be  from  there. 
That  is  the  spot,"  he  added,  pointing  it  out  to  Walton. 

The  direction  which  Clarendon  indicated  was  near  the 
lower  opening  of  the  Gorge,  on  the  west  side.  Here, 
elevated  from  the  bank  of  the  river  by  the  bold  bluff 
on  which  it  stood,  backed  by  a  dense  evergreen  wood, 
that  crowned  the  bolder  bluffs  above,  peeped  out  a  little 
cottage.  The  neglected  vines  that  trailed  about  the 
low  porch,  and  the  tangled  bushes  and  shrubs  before 
it,  told  that  it  was  unoccupied. 

-What  a  beautiful  spot,"  said  Charlotte.  "It  is 
rightly  named  a  'bird's  nest,'  so  sheltered  and  sur- 
rounded. But  why  is  it  unoccupied?" 

"  I  really  cannot  tell,"  replied  Honora. 

"I  know,"  said  Agatha,  from  the  other  end  of  the 
boat.  "Papsy  told  me  it  was  haunted." 


108  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MAKY. 

Gregory  observed  Chet  bite  his  lips,  and  ply  the  oars 
more  rapidly. 

"Yes,"  continued  the  child,  "she  told  me  it  was 
haunted  ever  since  her  mother  lived  there,  and  — " 

The  blood  mounted  into  Chefs  face,  and  there  was 
an  impatient  movement  of  his  foot.  Clarendon  drew 
Agatha's  attention,  before  she  could  finish  the  sentence, 
to  a  strange-looking  fish,  and  whispered  to  her  not 
to  tell  any  more  of  Papsy's  stories  before  Chet. 

At  the  lower  landing,  the  company,  with  the  provis- 
ions for  the  day's  comfort,  were  safely  deposited  on  a 
green,  mossy  bank,  below  the  bluff.  Chet  stood  with 
arms  folded  in  the  stern  of  the  boat,  awaiting  or- 
ders. 

"  We  wish  to  go  over  to  your  castle,"  said  Claren- 
don, "  some  time  during  the  day ;  will  it  be  agreeable  ? 
and  how  shall  we  cross  the  river  ?  " 

"  My  door  is  never  closed  to  Mr.  Clarendon  and  his 
friends,"  replied  Chet.  "  A  whistle  from  here  will  bring 
me  to  row  you  across." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Clarendon,  "  we  value  your  kind- 
ness ;  but  as  I  am  a  poor  whistler,  I  will  raise  this," 
taking  out  his  handkerchief  for  a  signal. 


A    VISIT    TO    THE    GORGE.  109 

"  This  is  better,"  replied  Chet,  loosing  a  long,  red 
scarf  from  about  his  waist. 

Gregory  had  scarcely  taken  it,  before  the  man  was 
half-way  across  the  stream. 

"  A  strange  mortal ! "  said  Chauncey  Douglass,  as 
Le  watched  the  powerful  strokes  that  propelled  the 
skiff.  "Do  tell  us  his  history,  Clarendon.  It  must  be 
a  romantic  one.  By  the  way,  I  had  my  hand  on  a 
piece  of  money  for  him,  but  there  was  something  in 
his  looks  and  manner  that  restrained  me." 

"  Luckily  for  you,  Douglass,"  reph'ed  Gregory.  "  If 
you  had  offered  him  money  for  his  friendly  services  to- 
day, you  would  have  made  him  an  enemy  for  life." 

"  Is  it  possible  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Morgan  and  Chaun- 
cey Douglass  in  a  breath.  "  Pray  how  does  he  live  ? " 

"Nobody  knows,  and  nobody  better  inquire,"  said 
Clarendon,  looking  fixedly  into  Agatha's  great  eyes. 

"  He  is  very  remarkable  in  his  appearance,"  said 
Mr.  Walton,  who  'was  watching  Chet  as  he  clambered 
the  rocks,  like  a  goat,  on  his  way  to  his  dwelling. 
"  Such  a  powerful  chest  and  broad  shoulders !  He 
must  have  the  strength  of  two  common  men." 

"  Charlotte  thinks  he  is  very  handsome,"  said  Ho- 
nora,  smiling. 


110  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  Young  ladies  like  anything  foreign"  replied  Chaun- 
cey,  "  and  he  might  pass  for  a  Spaniard.  He  is  finer- 
looking  than  his  sister,  though  they  do  not  look  alike." 

"  They  are  not  own  brother  and  sister,"  said  Agatha, 
eagerly  ;  "  Papsy  told  me  —  " 

"  Here,  you  little  witch ! "  said  Clarendon,  putting 
his  hand  over  her  mouth,  "  take  this  basket  of  cherries 
for  your  part  of  the  load,  and  don't  let's  hear  any 
more  of  Papsy's  stories  to-day." 

Agatha  was  offended  ;  she  drew  herself  up  haughtily, 
and  strode  on  before  the  company,  without  touching 
the  basket.  Clarendon  called  after  her,  teling  her  he 
was  alone,  but  she  would  not  reply  or  turn  her  head. 

"  What  a  volume  of  pride  walks  there ! "  said  her 
brother,  —  "  real  Douglass  pride !  " 

"  Somebody  must  help  her  subdue  that  spirit,"  replied 
Gregory,  gravely ;  "  it  must  be  exorcised." 

"  It  is  not  in  the  power  of  man,"  replied  Chauncey ; 
"  she  will  pout  and  fling  for  a  week*  to  come." 

"  O  not  so  bad  as  that,"  said   Clarendon. 

"Well,  try  and  see,"  replied  her  brother.  "I  wager 
my  watch  that  she  does  not  speak  decently  to  an  indi- 
vidual for  the  remainder  of  the  day ;  if,  indeed,  she 


A    VISIT    TO    THE    GORGE.  Ill 

allows    us    again    to    hear    the    sweet    tones     of    her 
voice." 

Clarendon  did  not  reply,  but,  stepping  behind  the  com- 
pany, walked  in  silence.  When  they  reached  the  level 
before  the  cottage,  the  young  men  with  their  priming- 
knives  cut  away  the  thick  bushes  that  intercepted  the 
path  to  the  door,  and  the  company  were  glad  to  rest 
under  the  broad  stoop. 


112  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

GREGORY  AND  AGATHA. 

"And  as  this  landscape  broad,  earth,  sea,  and  sky, 
All  centres  in  thine  eye. 
So  all  God  does,  if  rightly  understood, 

Shall  work  thv  final  good." 

KEBLE. 

"O,  when  she's  angry  she  is  keen  and  shrewd, 
And  though  she  be  but  little,  she  is  fierce." 

SHAKESPEAKE. 

FTIHE  SCENE  from  the  porch  of  the  cottage  was 
J_  peculiar.  The  sun  had  climbed  so  far  in  his  daily 
course  that  his  beams  came  down  into  the  valley  light- 
ing its  dark  recesses,  while  the  fleecy  clouds  scattered 
their  shadows  over  the  masses  of  ragged  rock.  Below 
the  cliff  on  which  the  cottage  rested  the  river  flowed 
with  rapid  current,  its  deep-blue  waters  sparkling  and 
heaving  in  the  sunlight.  The  opposite  shore  was  in 
full  view,  —  steep,  almost  precipitous,  but  inhabited,  as 
the  smoke  which  curled  lazily  up  from  many  a  thicket 


GREGORY  AND  AGATHA.       llo 

betokened.  Here  and  there  a  hut  could  be  seen,  but 
generally  they  were  hidden  by  massive  rocks  or  a  dense 
growth  of  hemlock.  On  the  very  highest  bluff  stood 
Chet's  castle.  At  first  you  were  in  doubt  whether  this 
were  really  a  dwelling,  or  only  a  mass  of  the  rocks 
which  were  about  everywhere,  partially  covered  with  a 
luxuriant  grape-vine.  But  the  regularity  of  its*  shape, 
and  the  port-holes  for  windows,  but,  more  than  all,  the 
open  door  and  the  chimney  with  its  blue  wreath,  marked 
it  as  a  human  habitation. 

"  God  has  made  everything  very  beautiful,"  said 
"Walton,  faintly,  as  he  sunk  back  exhausted  by  the 
walk.  Honora  poured  out  a  glass  of  wine  and  begged 
him  to  drink  it.  He  barely  touched  his  lips  to  the 


"  Take  it  Robert,"  said  Clarendon. 

The  invalid  shook  his  head  and  placed  his  hand  on 
his  forehead.  "  It  is  past  now,"  he  said  quickly.  "  I 
have  no  need  of  it." 

In  a  few  moments  he  had  recovered  himself,  and 
was  preparing  his  utensils  for  sketching.  Clarendon, 
finding  Agatha  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  went  in  pur- 
suit of  her.  Behind  the  house  there  had  once  been 


114  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

an  orchard,  and  here  and  there  an  old  apple-tree  still 
spread  its  gnarled,  mossy  branches.  The  tenants  of  the 
forest  had  encroached  upon  the  orchard,  and  it  was 
now  a  thicket  of  half-grown  pines  and  hemlocks  among 
the  remaining  fruit-trees. 

Clarendon  would  perhaps  have  failed  to  find  Agatha 
but  for  her  white  dress.  She  was  in  the  topmost  crotch 
of  an  old  apple-tree,  evidently  in  no  conversable  mood. 

"  Ha !  Agatha,  my  child !  My  runaway ! "  said  Greg- 
ory, at  the  same  tune  climbing  the  tree.  "Is  there 
room  for  me  ?  " 

He  did  not  wait  for  a  reply,  but  seated  himself  by 
her  side. 

"Agatha,"  he  said,  "perhaps  I  spoke  hastily  when  I 
reproved  you.  I  am  sorry  if  I  hurt  your  feelings ;  it 
was  not  my  intention."  He  took  her  hand  in  his,  and 
she  did  not  withdraw  it.  He  continued:  "The  reason 
I  spoke  to  you  so  abruptly  was,  that  your  judgment  is 
not  sufficiently  matured  to  tell  you  how  far  Papsy's 
confidences  may  be  agreeable  to  the  ears  of  ladies  and 
gentlemen.  I  am  very  much  interested  in  you,  my 
child,  and  if  I  am  abrupt  in  reproving  you,  will  you 
not  put  it  down  to  my  love  for  you,  and  desire  for 


GREGORY  AND  AGATHA.       115 

your  welfare?"  He  looked  into  her  eyes,  and  they 
were  dimmed  with  tears. 

"I  have  such  a  dreadful  temper,"  she  said,  sobbing. 
"  I  get  angry  at  the  least  thing,  and  when  Miss  Mor- 
gan scolds  me,  and  Chauncey  calls  me  '  Firebrand,'  it 
only  makes  me  worse.  You  and  Miss  Nora  speak 
gently  to  me,  and  it  goes  away,  and  I  feel  sorry ;  but 
when  I  get  angry  at  home  I  am  very  saucy,  and  uncle 
and  Miss  Morgan  shut  me  in  my  room  whole  days ; 
but  that  don't  do  me  any  good,  it  only  makes  me  mad- 
der," she  added,  her  temper  evidently  rising  at  the  re- 
membrance. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Clarendon,  soothingly,  "  we 
all  have  more  or  less  of  this  wicked  thing  to  contend 
with.  I  have  naturally  a  fearful  temper:  we  can't  rid 
ourselves  of  it,  Agatha,  without  help." 

"  I  have  n't  anybody  to  help  me,"  she  replied. 
"  Besides,  sometimes  I  don't  wish  to  be  rid  of  it." 

"  That  thought,  dear  Agatha,"  said  Clarendon,  very 
sorrowfully,  "does  not  comport  with  your  duty  to  God 
or  man,  as  you  learn  it  from  the  Bible  and  in  the 
Catechism." 

"I  don't  read  the  Bible  nor  learn  the  Catechism," 
she  said,  abruptly. 


116  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  Not  read  the  Bible  nor  learn  the  Catechism ! "  he 
exclaimed  with  real  surprise. 

"  No,"  she  replied  firmly.  "  Miss  Morgan  teases  me 
to  study  the  Catechism ;  but  uncle  said  I  might  do  as  I 
pleased,  and  as  I  am  not  baptized,  it  did  not  seem  to 
be  the  truth  coming  from  my  lips." 

Gregory  was  silent  a  moment ;  then,  taking  both  her 
hands  in  his,  he  said,  very  seriously,  "  Do  you  ever 
think  that  you  are  quite  old  enough  to  make  those  bap- 
tismal vows  yourself,  —  to  confess  Christ  before  men? 
and  are  you  living  without  learning  your  duty,  because 
your  parents  have  not  fulfilled  their  duty  to  you  ?  O 
Agatha,  you  will  not  let  it  be  so !  How  can  you  ex- 
pect Divine  help  in  subduing  and  governing  your  tem- 
per, if  you  will  not  submit  yourself  to  rightful  author- 
ity. The  Church  requires  her  children  to  study  the 
Bible  and  learn  the  Catechism;  and  though  you  may 
say  you  are  not  her  child,  you  will  not,  you  dare  not 
say,  that  you  never  wish  to  be  one  of  her  children, 
that  you  will  never  come  'to  wash  and  be  clean'?" 

The  child  did  not  reply  to  his  earnest  appeal,  but 
laid  her  head  on  his  arm  and  wept. 

"We  will  talk  of  this  again,"  he  said,  looking  at  his 


GREGORY  AND  AGATHA.        117 

watch,  "  but  now  we  must  go  to  the  company."  Step- 
ping from  his  seat,  he  put  out  his  hands  to  receive 
Agatha,  but  she  drew  back,  and  shook  her  head. 

-Why  not?"  said  Clarendon.  "Come,  don't  pout: 
be  a  good  girl  and  go,  because  I  wish  it."  He  lifted 
her  from  her  seat  with  one  arm,  and  sprung  to  the 
ground.  "  Come,"  he  said,  soothingly,  "  give  up  this 
pride ;  come  out  and  make  us  all  happy  by  your  mer- 
ry laugh." 

"  I  may  say  something  improper,"  she  replied,  purs- 
ing up  her  lips  and  walking  slowly.  "  If  I  could  tell 
you  all  I  was  going  to  say,  then  you  could  tell  me 
whether  it  was  improper." 

Clarendon  smiled,  and  bade  her  keep  close  to  him, 
and  he  would  talk  more  with  her  by  and  by. 

No  one  apparently  noticed  the  return  of  Agatha  to 
the  company,  except  Chauncey,  who  suggested  to  Char- 
lotte, that  "his  watch  was  in  danger." 

Walton  had  commenced  sketching.  Already  the  lines 
marking  the  river,  the  horizon,  and  some  of  the  bolder 
bluffs,  were  apparent.  Agatha  came  and  stood  near 
him,  while  Honora  and  Charlotte  disappeared,  to  find 
a  fitting  place  for  their  repast. 


118  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.   MARY. 

"What  an  influence  Gregory  had  upon  Agatha,"  said 
Charlotte.  "  Did  you  notice  the  expression  of  her 
countenance,  —  how  changed,  subdued  ?  And  she  had 
been  weeping." 

"  Gregory  is  like  our  father,"  replied  Honora ;  "  they 
both  have  a  way  of  influencing  children  that  is  remark- 
able. I  have  known  my  brother,  in  a  most  violent  fit 
of  passion,  when  a  child,  controlled  by  a  single  look 
from  his  father,  and  yet  he  was  never  severe." 

"I  wish  I  had  that  magnetic  power,"  said  Charlotte, 
with  a  sigh.  "  Matters  are  getting  somewhat  desperate 
at  Maple  Cliff.  Miss  Agatha  obeys  only  when  she 
chooses.  I  am  glad  there  is  to  be  a  controlling  power 
to  fall  back  upon,  for  I  do  not  see  the  end  of  this  vio- 
lent intimacy  with  Papsy.  To-day's  disclosures  show 
the  confidential  terms  on  which  they  stand." 

"  I  see  it,"  replied  Honora ;  "  and  brother  sees  it, 
and  regrets  it  as  much  as  we  do." 

"  How  do  you  account  for  it  in  a  child  of  so  much 
pride  ?  "  inquired  Charlotte. 

"I  think,"  replied  Miss  Clarendon,  "she  looks  upon 
herself  as  a  sort  of  champion  of  Papsy's,  which  gives 
her  a  bit  of  heroic  feeling.  Papsy  has  evidently  done 


GREGORY  AND  AGATHA.        119 

wrong  in  listening  to  Dick  Walbridge,  which  must 
make  us  all  desire  to  keep  Agatha  as  much  as  pos- 
sible from  her  society.  I  am  persuaded  Gregory 
knows  more  about  it  than  either  of  us,  and  he  will 
seek  the  best  way  to  break  up  this  intercourse.  An 
abrupt  or  ill-timed  measure  would  only  raise  Agatha's 
determined  self-will.  Here  is  a  nice  place  for  our  re- 
past," added  Honora,  willing  to  change  the  subject,  as 
they  came  to  a  broad  open  space  under  the  shadow  of 
a  rock. 

"  This  is  very  secluded,"  said  Charlotte ;  "  and  how 
cool  and  refreshing!" 

When  the  time  came,  a  flat  rock  was  spread  with  a 
white  cloth,  and  covered  with  such  viands  as  are  usual 
at  an  out-of-door  lunch. 

"  I  think  Aunt  Martha  did  not  mean  we  should  re- 
turn quite  sober,"  said  Gregory,  as  he  drew  bottle 
after  bottle  from  the  baskets. 

"  She  thinks  nothing  is  too  good  for  you,  brother," 
replied  Honora. 

"But  she  knows  I  seldom  take  wine,  and  you  never 
do.  It  must  have  been  for  you,  Robert,"  he  said,  turn- 
ing to  his  friend.  "You  are  getting  so  much  into 


120  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

Aunt  Martha's  good  graces,  that  I  begin  to  be  jealous 
of  you.  But  what  shall  we  do  with  the  wine,  Nora?" 

"  We  can  distribute  the  bottles  among  the  sick  peo- 
ple here  in  the  Gorge ;  send  one  to  Rosa,  who  is  fee- 
ble, one  to  Aunt  Polly,  and  another  to  — " 

"  The  Judge,"  said  Gregory,  laughing.  "  I  saw  the 
old  man  sculling  up  stream  awhile  ago.  I  would  like 
you  should  see  him,  Chauncey.  He  is  an  original  pe- 
culiar to  our  Gorge." 


THE    JUDGE.  121 


CHAPTER    XYI. 

THE  JUDGE. 

"  Methinks  I  love  all  common  things,  — 
The  common  air,  the  common  flower, 
The  dear,  kind  common  thought  that  springs 
From  hearts  that  have  no  other  dower, 
No  other  wealth,  no  other  power, 
Save  love." 

BARRY  CORNWALL. 

AS  THE  company  finished  their  repast,  and  re- 
turned to  the  stoop  of  the  cottage,  the  tiny  skiff 
of  the  Judge  rounded  the  point,  and  approached  the 
lower  landing.  The  party  commenced  the  descent  to- 
ward the  river,  and  were  nearing  the  landing,  when 
the  boat  touched  the  shore.  The  skiff  contained  the 
figure  of  an  old  man,  whose  white  hair  and  beard  con- 
trasted strangely  with  his  shining  black  skin.  He  was 
very  infirm,  as  the  slow,  wearied  motion  of  the  oar 
indicated; 

6 


122  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  How  are  you,  Judge  ? "  said  Clarendon,  stepping 
forth  from  the  clump  of  trees  that  concealed  the  com- 
pany, and  giving  his  strong  arm  to  aid  the  feeble  old 
man  in  bringing  himself  safely  to  land.  "  How  are 
you  to-day?" 

"  Purty  cute,  thank  ye,  Mr.  Gregory,  'cept  these 
rhumatis'.  I'm  thankful  for  seeing  you  all"  he  said, 
nodding  to  the  company,  who  thought  themselves  hidden. 

"  Do  you  get  along  comfortably  at  home,  now  ?  "  said 
Gregory,  with  real  interest. 

"  Why,  we  jist  stay,  me  and  my  old  'oman,"  re- 
plied the  Judge.  "  You  see,  I  telled  the  Deacon  if 
he  'd  let  us  have  the  old  hut  to  die  in,  he 's  welcome  to 
all  arter." 

"Is  it  possible,"  said  Clarendon,  indignantly,  "that 
Deacon  Dobbin  troubles  you  about  that  old  debt  yet  ? " 

"  Well,  now,  Mr.  Gregory,"  said  the  old  man,  twist- 
ing the  immense  quid  in  his  mouth,  "  he  come  about 
every  day,  till  I  was  clean  tired  out,  and  tell'd  him 
to  take  us  down  south  and  sell  us  for  what  he  could 
get.  This  made  the  old  feller  mad,  and  I  suppose  he 
would  ha'  turned  us  out,  neck  and  heels,  straightway ; 
but  Chet  come  along  just  then,  and,  I  tell  ye!  the  old 


THE    JUDGE.  123 

feller  looked  as  pale  as  a  baby ;  for  Chet  hauled  out 
his  pistol  and  swore  he  'd  shoot  him,  if  he  ever  catched 
him  there  agin  on  that  business." 

"  Bravo,  Chet !  "  said  Clarendon.  "  I  'm  glad  there  'a 
one  person  the  old  reprobate  is  afraid  of." 

The  party  had  drawn  near  the  old  man,  and  were 
listening  attentively  to  his  conversation,  which  he  gar- 
nished with  knowing  looks  out  of  his  one  keen  black 
eye,  and  energetic  gestures  with  his  rheumatic  body. 
"  Why,  they  tell'd  me,"  said  the  Judge,  winking  at 
Chauncey,  "  they  tell'd  me,  Mr.  Gregory,  that  you  was 
going  to  be  a  minister.  I  knowed  yoi^'d  too  much 
fire  for  that  business.  Elder  Sparks,  now,  when  he 
comes  into  the  Gorge,  it 's  like  as  if  you  heaped  brush, 
and  sot  fire  to  it.  All  the  niggers  and  white  folks, 
and  the  rest  on  'um,  is  a  screamin'  and  shoutin',  and 
tearin'  round  ;  and  what  comes  on  't  ?  Why  it  jist  lasts 
while  the  Elder  is  blowing  up." 

"  It  is  n't  well,  you  think,  Judge,"  said  Chauncey, 
who  was  enjoying  Gregory's  embarrassment,  "for  a 
clergyman  to  have  too  much  spirit?" 

"  In  a  way,  in  a  way,"  replied  the  old  man.  "  Na- 
tur'  will  out  in  the  best  on  us,  sometimes,  and  there 


124  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

is  n't  a  nicer  man  walks  than  Mr.  Gregory,"  he  said, 
emphatically  striking  the  ground  with  his  crutch. 

"  Thank  you,  Judge,"  replied  Clarendon,  in  a  manly 
tone.  "  I  was  hasty  in  speaking  of  Deacon  Dobbin, 
though  I  own  to  no  very  good  opinion  of  him." 

"  He  's  arter  his  sort,"  said  the  Judge  ;  "  very  pious 
Godward,  but  manward  rather  twistical." 

This  remark  caused  a  general  smile,  but  Clarendon, 
observing  that  "Walton  looked  at  his  watch,  went  for  the 
signal.  Agatha  insisted  upon  holding  the  long  staff, 
after  the  scarf  was  fastened  to  it  It  had  been  raised 
hardly  a  moment,  when  diet  was  seen  at  his  cottage  door. 

"  Poor  Chet ! "  soliloquized  the  Judge,  as  the  ladies 
remarked  on  his  prompt  attention  to  the  signal,  "I'm 
feared  he  '11  come  to  some  end,  one  o'  these  days.  He  's 
dredful  on  't  now,  'cause  he  's  part  nigger  blood ;  but  I 
tells  him  he  ought  to  be  thankful,  jest  to  read  how  kind 
Jesus  talked  to  poor  old  Niggerdimus,  and  see  that  nig- 
gers is  jist  as  likely  to  get  to  the  good  place  as  white 
folks ;  and  arter  all  there  aint  nothin'  else  worth  nothin'." 

The  old  man  was  too  much  occupied  with  his  own 
reflections  to  notice  the  smile  that  went  round  the  com- 
pany at  his  allusion  to  Nicodemus.  Honora  stooped 


THE    JUDGE.  125 

over  the  basket  to  hide  her  laughter,  and  Charlotte  was 
just  then  very  busy  searching  for  the  bottle  of  wine 
for  the  Judge.  Honora  gave  it  into  his  hand,  telling 
him  it  was  for  himself. 

"Bless  your  pretty  face,  and  may  you  have  a  hand- 
some —  " 

Clarendon  interrupted  the  ill-timed  blessing,  by  re- 
questing the  Judge  to  move  his  boat  one  side,  to  make 
room  for  Chet. 

Clarendon  walked  with  Chet  away  from  the  com- 
pany, while  Chauncey  and  Walton  arranged  the  ladies 
in  the  boat.  All  the  persuasions  of  Honora,  and  the 
commands  of  Miss  Morgan  and  her  brother,  could  not 
induce  Agatha  to  get  into  the  boat:  she  would  wait 
for  Gregory.  Chauncey,  a  little  piqued  by  her  obsti- 
nacy, jumped  to  the  shore,  and  would  have  carried 
her  in  forcibly,  but  she  ran  off  towards  Clarendon,  and 
interrupted  the  conversation  as  he  said,  "  Don't  be  rash, 
Chet;  matters  may  not  be  as  bad  as  you  fear.  What- 
ever comes,  rely  on  me  as  a  friend."  Then  turning  to 
Agatha,  he  said  affectionately,  "  Ah,  my  little  miss, 
what's  the  trouble  now?" 

"  Chauncey  is  angry  with  me  because  I  would  wait 
for  you,"  she  replied,  wilfully. 


126  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  replied,  taking  her  hand,  as  she 
skipped  along  by  his  side,  "  I  must  tell  your  brother 
you  are  under  my  authority  for  to-day." 

"  I  wish  it  were  for  always,"  she  said  earnestly, 
u  you  are  so  kind  and  gentle  to  me,  and  don't  scold  me." 

The  row  across  the  river  was  a  silent  one.  The 
sun  had  passed  the  meridian,  and  the  western  bluff  was 
in  the  shade.  A  soft  mist  hung  about  the  base,  and 
crept  upward  among  the  cliffs  and  forests,  giving  a 
mellowness  to  the  landscape  which  the  morning  view 
had  not.  The  party  agreed,  after  resting  from  their 
fatigue,  by  special  invitation,  in  diet's  domicile,  that 
the  view  already  taken  gave  a  truer  picture  of  the 
valley  than  could  be  obtained  elsewhere. 

The  look  of  wonder  on  Walton's  face  was  almost 
ludicrous,  when  he  beheld  the  very  fair,  flaxen-haired 
girl  Chet  had  taken  for  his  wife  looking  happy  and 
contented,  the  master  and  mistress  of  the  castle  evi- 
dently very  proud  each  of  the  other. 

The  return  home  was  unattended  by  any  misadven- 
ture, and  the  party  assembled  in  the  veranda  at  Wood- 
laud  Bluff,  somewhat  fatigued,  but  delighted  with  their 
day's  ramble. 


THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY.  127 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE   LADIES'    SEWING   SOCIETY. 

"  A  needle  which,  though  it  be  small  and  tender,. 
Yet  it  is  both  a  maker  and  a  mender, 
And  for  your  country's  quiet  you  would  like 
That  womankind  should  use  no  other  pike. 
It  will  increase  their  peace,  enlarge  their  store, 
To  use  their  tongues  less  and  their  needles  more, 
The  needle's  sharpness  profit  yields  and  pleasure 
But  sharpness  of  the  tongue  bites  out  of  measure." 

THE  DAY  was  fixed  for  the  long-talked-of  meet- 
ing of  the  "Ladies'  Sewing  Society,"  at  Mr. 
Ridgway's.  Special  invitations  had  been  sent  to  each 
member  of  the  families  at  Woodland  Bluff  and  Maple 
Cliff,  including  Agatha.  Charlotte,  finding  her  presence 
there  would  contribute  to  the  comfort  of  Honora,  who 
was  one  of  the  directors  of  the  society,  consented  to 
go,  provided  they  could  dispose  of  Agatha.  Much  to 
her  surprise,  she  found  the  child  did  not  wish  to  go, ' 


128  THE    CHAPEL     OF     ST.    MARY. 

but  was  looking  forward  to  a  ride  with  Anne  Wai- 
bridge  on  the  hay-cart.  Chauncey  Douglass  declined 
the  invitation  on  account  of  the  busy  haying  season. 

There  was  a  very  promiscuous  assemblage  at  the 
Ridgways'.  There  was  Mrs.  Dobbin  and  her  five 
daughters,  all  grown  girls ;  Elder  Sparks,  with  his  wife 
and  pair  of  twin  boys,  about  three  years  of  age,  who 
employed  all  Mrs.  Sparks's  leisure  moments  in  keeping 
their  fingers,  sticky  with  the  cakes  and  candy  they  were 
stuffing,  from  Miss  Clarendon's  dress.  Charlotte  un- 
fortunately found  an  uneasy  seat  between  Miss  Eliza 
Ridgway  and  Mrs.  Dobbin.  Eliza's  attention  was  ab- 
sorbed in  watching  her  mother,  correcting  her  mistakes 
in  grammar,  and  now  and  then  hitting  her  elbow,  and 
saying,  "Don't,  ma!"  as  Mrs.  Ridgway  related  some 
of  her  daughter  Eliza's  pious  performances.  No  sooner, 
however,  did  Mrs.  Dobbin  find  herself  with  an  auditor, 
than  she  broke  out  in  a  shrill  voice,  twisting  her 
straight  little  neck,  and  bobbing  her  head  about  toward 
Charlotte. 

"  Now,  Miss  Morgan,  I  'm  one  of  them  sort  as  al'ays 
speaks  my  mind,  and  I  want  to  know  if  you  have  any 
•idee  how  much  that  nigger  of  Mr.  Douglas's  and  that 


THE    LADIES'    SEWING    SOCIETY.         129 

little  girl  you  have  the  care  of  are  together  ?  There 
ain't  a  day  passes  but  I  see  'urn  going  round  the  cor- 
ner, down  to  the  Gorge,  as  lovin'  as  sisters.  I  would 
n't  let  my  girls  run  round  so,  I  know.  I'm  favorable 
to  niggers,  but  I  don't  want  'um  nigh  me,  or  to  make 
company  on  'um." 

Charlotte  paused  a  moment,  and  then  replied  coldly, 
"Mr.  Douglass  does  not  object" 

"  Very  like,"  replied  Mrs.  Dobbin,  with  a  sneer. 
"  There  was  a  time,  when  the  Deacon  and  I  both 
thought  well  of  Papsy;  we  counted  on  her  and  Dick 
Walbridge  as  Elder  Sparks's  converts." 

"  Perhaps  they  were,"  said  Charlotte,  a  little  ironically. 

"  No,"  replied  the  sharp-voiced  woman,  "  they  never 
came  out!  My  Ann  'Tilda  did  though.  There's  Ann 
'Tilda,"  she  added,  pointing  to  a  girl  of  twenty,  who 
sat  with  her  mouth  and  eyes  wide  open,  staring  at 
Honora,  who  had  entered  into  conversation  with  the 
mother  of  the  twins,  about  measles,  whooping-cough, 
«fec.  Charlotte  noticed  this  interesting  representative  of 
the  Dobbin  family,  in  hopes  thereby  to  change  the 
current  of  the  conversation ;  but  the  indefatigable  Mrs. 
Dobbin  soon  returned  to  "speakin'  her  mind." 
6*  i 


130  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  You  know  I  s'pose,"  she  said,  with  an  attempt  to 
whisper  which  seemed  to  make  the  shrillness  of  her 
voice  more  apparent,  "  that  Mr.  Douglass  aint  thought 
much  of  about  here.  He  treats  his  wife  like  a  dog ; 
and  it  is  well  known — " 

"  Excuse  me,  Mrs.  Dobbin,"  said  Miss  Morgan,  ris- 
ing with  dignity,  "I  would  rather  not  hear  about  Mr. 
Douglass." 

"  "Well,  I  never ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dobbin  to  Eliza 
Kidgway,  as  Charlotte  walked  across  the  room.  "  How 
proud  everybody  is  that  has  anything  to  do  with  them 
Douglasses ! " 

Charlotte,  in  the  midst  of  self-gratulation  at  having 
escaped  Mrs.  Dobbin,  saw  Elder  Sparks  rise  and  bring 
his  chair  near  hers.  She  blushed  painfully,  but  the 
Elder  introduced  himself,  by  saying,  "  I  make  it  a 
point  to  know  everybody." 

"  How  delightful  is  this  meeting ! "  he  said,  after 
duly  wiping  his  nose,  and  spreading  his  hands  on  his 
knees.  "  Unity,  unity  among  Christians,  after  all,  is  the 
sine  qua  non.  You  go  to  Brother  Walbridge's  meet- 
in'  ? "  he  added  inquiringly. 

"I  am  a  member  of  the  Episcopal  Church,"  replied 
Charlotte,  with  freezing  coldness. 


THE    LADIES'    SEWING    SOCIETY.         131 

"  Well,  I  may  say  I  've  nothing  against  Episcopali- 
ans, except  their  want  of  charity  for  us,  and  to  that 
there  are  noble  exceptions.  Now,  here's  Miss  Eliza 
Ridgway;  I  may  say,  I  love  her  like  one  of  my  own 
converts.  She  is  so  humble-minded  and  devoted ! " 

"Indeed!"  said  Charlotte. 

"  Yes,"  resumed  the  Elder,  "  she  tells  me,  she  believes 
exactly  as  I  do,  and  approves  of  all  my  measures." 

Charlotte  could  not  resist  the  desire  to  say,  "I  won- 
der at  her  leaving  you." 

"O,  you  are  a  little  more  genteel"  he  replied,  with 
a  smirk  that  was  very  disgusting  to  Charlotte's  taste ; 
but  she  forced  herself  to  say,  "  That  is  hardly  a  worthy 
motive  for  a  Christian  to  act  upon  in  so  important  a 
step." 

"  She  is  young,  you  know,  Miss  Morgan,"  said  the 
Elder,  in  a  confidential  whisper ;  "  and  where  there  is  a 
young  clergyman  in  the  question,  one  can  hardly  blame 
her." 

This  speech  was  accompanied  with  another  smirk, 
and  Charlotte,  thoroughly  disgusted,  escaped  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  took  a  seat  near  Ilonora,  who  was  hi  the 
midst  of  an  earnest  conversation  with  her  next  neigh- 
bor about  the  mysteries  of  cooking. 


132  THE    CHAPEL     OF    ST.    MARY. 

Towards  the  latter  end  of  the  afternoon,  Dr.  Wai- 
bridge  came  in,  accompanied  by  the  young  clergyman 
from  Ridgeville.  The  Misses  Ridgway  were  earnest 
to  introduce  the  stranger  to  everybody,  but  at  the  first 
pause  the  Rev.  Mr.  Clement  came  towards  Honora, 
and,  extending  his  hand,  said  hi  a  kind,  cordial  tone, 
"I  am  happy  to  see  you,  Miss  Clarendon,  for,  though 
we  have  met  but  once,  I  do  not  feel  as  a  stranger, 
having  so  often  seen  your  brother."  It  was  very  pleas- 
ant to  Honora  to  meet  one  of  whom  she  had  heard  so 
much  good.  "I  came  up,"  he  said,  after  greeting  Miss 
Morgan,  to  whom  Honora  introduced  him,  "  to  visit  the 
Gorge  with  Dr.  Walbridge." 

"  You  find  much  to  be  done  there,"  said  Honora 
gently. 

"  Yes,  a  work  that  has  been  too  long  neglected.  Dr. 
"Walbridge's  health  is  feeble,  and  his  parish  large.  He 
wishes  me  to  undertake  this  part  of  his  parochial  dudes 
for  him  at  present,  and,  with  the  help  of  you  ladies," 
he  added,  looking  at  Charlotte  and  Honora,  "  I  shall 
hope  something  may  be  done  for  this  wild  place.  The 
Doctor  referred  me  to  you,  Miss  Clarendon,  for  many 
particulars  of  the  inhabitants,  with  whom  he  said  you 
were  better  acquainted  than  himself." 


THE    LADIES'    SEWING    SOCIETY.         133 

Honora  blushed,  and  replied,  modestly,  "  I  have  often 
visited  these  poor  people,  but  I  think  you  will  find 
Chet  a  useful  auxiliary  if  — "  she  hesitated,  "  if  you 
take  him  in  his  way." 

"  Chet,"  replied  the  clergyman,  musingly,  —  "I  have 
often  met  him  hi  the  lower  village  with  game,  but 
could  never  prevail  upon  him  to  enter  into  conversa- 
tion with  me.  May  I  inquire,  Miss  Clarendon,  what  is 
his  way  ?  " 

"My  brother  can  tell  you  better  than  I,"  said  Hono- 
ra, smilingly;  "they  have  been  firm  friends  from  boy- 
hood." 

"  If  he  is  a  friend  of  Mr.  Clarendon's,  I  must  find 
the  way  to  make  him  mine,"  replied  he  warmly.  "Is 
that  mulatto  girl  that  is  passing,"  he  added,  looking 
into  the  street,  "  one  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Gorge  ? " 

Honora  and  Charlotte  instinctively  turned  to  the 
window ;  down  the  way  came  Papsy,  accompanied  by 
Agatha.  The  child  was  dressed  in  a  white  muslin 
robe,  her  gypsy  hat,  trimmed  with  fresh  hop-vines,  hung 
lightly  over  her  neck.  Her  face  was  flushed,  and  she 
was  in  earnest  conversation  with  her  colored  friend,  as 
she  skipped  along  by  her  side,  unable,  in  an  ordinary 
walk,  to  keep  up  with  Paps/s  long  strides. 


134  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  That  is  Chet's  sister,"  replied  Honora ;  who  re- 
covered herself  before  Charlotte  from  her  surprise,  at 
seeing  the  child,  whom  she  had  supposed  making  hay 
with  her  brother,  evidently  on  the  way  to  the  Gorge 
with  Papsy.  Tea  was  announced  before  Miss  Morgan 
could  recover  from  her  bewilderment ;  and  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  evening,  though  Gregory  and  Mr.  Wal- 
ton came  down,  and  music  was  introduced  as  an  enter- 
tainment, Charlotte's  thoughts  were  elsewhere.  She 
could  not  rid  herself  of  a  painful  sense  of  neglect  of 
duty,  and,  when  Gregory  rallied  her  on  her  very  long 
face,  there  was  no  answering  smile  or  reply. 

"What  troubles  Charlotte?"  whispered  Gregory  to 
his  sister. 

"  Agatha  has  gone  by  on  her  way  to  the  Gorge  with 
Papsy,  and  she  is  grieved  because  she  was  not  at  home 
to  prevent  it,"  replied  Honora. 

Clarendon  bit  his  lip,  but  said  nothing.  From  that 
moment  he  too  lost  his  vivacity,  and  seemed  anxious 
to  have  the  evening  come  to  an  end.  He  caught  him- 
self several  times,  while  Miss  Eliza  was  entertaining 
him  with  an  account  of  her  "  sensitive  feelings "  and 
"  peculiar  position,"  thinking  of  something  else,  and 


THE    LADIES'    SEWING    SOCIETY.  135 

obliged  to  reply  indefinitely,  or  not  at  all.  At  length 
the  meeting  was  closed  with  prayer,  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Clement  leading  the  devotions  of  the  people.  His  voice 
and  manner  were  very  effective ;  so  much  so,  as  to 
cause  Mrs.  Dobbin  to  say  to  Mrs.  Sparks,  that  "  she 
was  glad  to  hear  one  of  them  Church  folks  that  could 
pray  from  the  heart  How  different  from  those  book- 
prayers  they  generally  read  !  "  Charlotte  was  amused, 
even  amid  her  concern  for  Agatha.  The  prayers  had 
been  the  form  for  Evening  Family  Devotions,  with 
which  every  Churchman  is  familiar. 


136  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

WORK. 

"  Labor  is  glory.    The  flying  cloud  lightens, 
Only  the  passing  wing  changes  and  brightens, 
Idle  heart  only  the  dark  future  frightens, 
Play  the  sweet  keys  wouldst  thou  keep  them  in  tune." 

MRS.  OSGOOD. 

THE  CLEAK,  hot  July  days  had  passed  into  the 
hazy,  sultry  hours  of  August.  The  five  weeks 
of  Robert  Walton's  stay  at  Woodland  Bluff  were  gone 
like  a  dream.  His  health  had  improved,  and  there 
seemed  perhaps  a  shade  less  of  sadness  on  his  finely 
chiselled  face.  He  had  won  the  hearts  of  the  family 
so  completely,  that  they  had  obtained  a  promise  for  the 
Christmas  holidays,  when  he  would  see  Rockridge  and 
the  Gorge  in  their  glittering  winter  robes.  He  had 
taken  sketches  from  many  of  Colonel  Clarendon's  favor- 
ite points,  and  finished  the  painting  of  the  first  view 
of  the  Gorge.  Aunt  Martha  had  become  satisfied  that 


WORK.  137 

artists  might  be  honest  men ;  and  she  had  petted 
Robert,  to  the  great  amusement  of  Gregory,  with  the 
hot  drinks  and  herb  teas  she  had  long  offered  in  vain 
to  her  nephew.  She  was  much  concerned  because  she 
had  not  been  able  to  discover  what  the  young  man 
"had  on  his  mind."  Even  to  Gregory  he  had  never 
spoken  of  parents  or  home ;  and  there  was  something 
that  made  the  most  curious  diffident  about  questioning 
him.  The  family  knew  nothing  of  his  history  when 
he  left  Woodland  Bluff,  except  that  Aunt  Martha  had 
made  the  discovery  that  he  had  once  had  a  mother, 
from  an  English  Prayer-Book  in  his  possession,  in 
•which  was  written,  "  From  my  Mother."  Colonel  Clar- 
endon had  half  resolved,  in  his  hours  of  familiar  inter- 
course, to  ask  of  his  parentage ;  but  he  was  gone  before 
the  Colonel,  with  all  his  bravery,  could  attack  the  cit- 
adel of  "Walton's  reserve  on  this  point. 

There  was  an  important  wrork  going  on  at  the  Gorge, 
through  the  influence  of  Mr.  Clement.  Gregory  and 
Walton  were  warmly  enlisted  in  it.  A  regular  Sun- 
day service  had  been  established  there,  and  was 
well  attended.  Mr.  Clement  had  taken  Chet  in  "his 
way"  and  was  on  friendly  terms  with  the  "  lord  of  the 


138  THE    CHAPEL    OF   ST.    MARY. 

Gorge,"  and  by  his  help  obtained  admittance  into  all 
the  huts  and  hovels  in  the  region.  The  Sunday  school 
in  the  dilapidated  school-house  had  passed  into  Greg- 
ory's hands,  and  this,  with  the  assistance  he  could 
render  Dr.  Walbridge,  whose  health  grew  every  day 
more  feeble,  occupied  most  of  his  leisure  hours.  He 
had  spoken  to  Honora  of  the  doubts  that  had  haunted 
him  the  previous  year ;  and  once,  in  the  presence  of 
Mr.  Clement,  he  wondered  where  they  had  vanished. 
"You  have  gone  to  work,"  replied  the  clergyman, 
smiling.  "  There  is  nothing  like  work,  work  in  the 
Church,  to  settle  one's  mind.  What  you  needed  was 
active  employment  for  your  religious  energies.  The 
old  lines  are  true  of  the  mind  and  soul,  as  of  the 

body:  — 

'  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still 
For  idle  hands  to  do. ' 

Young  men  in  college  are  not  particularly  active  in  do- 
ing good.  Now,  Clarendon,  if  you  make  up  your  mind 
to  enter  the  Seminary,  WORK.  There  is  work  enough 
everywhere.  Visit  the  poor  and  sick  ;  have  your  class 
in  Sunday  school ;  seek  out  objects  of  benevolence. 
Don't  spend  your  little  leisure  in  dogmatical  discus- 


WORK.  139 

sions,  but  in  active  service ;  take  hold  with  your  ear- 
nestness in  behalf  of  the  suffering,  the  ignorant,  the  fallen, 
and  I  think  I  can  assure  you,  doubts  will  be  like  '  the 
morning  cloud  and  early  dew.' " 

Gregory  had  made  many  an  effort  to  enlist  Chauncey 
Douglass  hi  the  good  work.  Since  this  young  man  had 
come  to  Rockridge,  he  had  witnessed  intimately,  for  the 
first  time,  life  guided,  governed,  and  controlled  by  ear- 
nest, abiding  faith  in  Christ,  manifesting  itself  by  works 
of  love.  Religion  had  hitherto  been  something  with 
which  he  had  nothing  particular  to  do.  Now  he  looked 
on  while  Mr.  Clement,  Clarendon,  and  Walton,  like 
himself  young  men,  in  all  their  acts  referred  to  a  re- 
sponsibility above  and  beyond  anything  earthly ;  and 
he  wondered  why  he  had  never  felt  what  was  their 
life.  Several  long  talks  with  Miss  Morgan  ended  in 
making  him  very  dissatisfied  with  his  wholly  worldly 
existence,  and  gave  him  indefinite  longings  for  something 
better. 

Charlotte  continued  her  efforts  in  behalf  of  poor 
Mrs.  Douglass.  After  the  severe  illness  we  have  men- 
tioned in  a  previous  chapter,  she  returned  to  her  daily 
round  of  duties,  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  Miss 


140  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

Morgan  endeavored  to  interest  her  in  the  new  efforts 
that  were  making  for  the  good  of  the  community,  but 
the  heart  that  might  have  overflowed  with  benevolence 
was  crushed  with  its  own  heavy  sorrows.  Dr.  Wai- 
bridge  had  welcomed  the  suffering  soul  to  the  Lord's 
Table,  and  from  that  time  she  became  a  child  indeed, 
bending  submissively  beneath  her  overwhelming  load 
of  grief,  but  looking  forward  with  hope  and  trust  to 
that  time,  so  soon  to  come,  when  all  tears  should  be 
wiped  from  her  eyes. 

The  family  had  occasional  intelligence  from  Mr. 
Douglass ;  —  letters  to  Agatha,  descriptive  of  the  gay 
life  he  was  leading,  and  minute  directions  to  Chaun- 
cey  about  farming  operations ;  but  seldom  a  line  to 
denote  that  he  remembered  that  there  was  one  whom 
he  had  promised  "  to  love  and  cherish."  He  anticipated 
a  voyage  to  Scotland  ere  the  estate  could  be  fully  set- 
tled, but  he  should  return  to  Maple  Cliff  before  he 
went  abroad.  Now  and  then  he  inquired  for  Papsy,  as 
one  might  ask  after  a  pet  cur,  and  always  cautioned 
Chauncey  about  interfering  with  her  strange  ways,  so 
long  as  she  was  not  troublesome.  She  crossed  the 
path  of  the  young  man  but  seldom ;  nevertheless,  he 


WORK.  141 

began  to  look  upon  her  with  suspicion,  and  united  his 
efforts  with  Miss  Morgan  to  prevent  the  intimacy  be- 
tween her  and  his  sister. 

He  had  once  or  twice,  by  force,  hindered  Agatha  from 
walking  out  with  Papsy  after  nightfall.  These  forcible 
measures  excited  the  indignation  of  the  child,  and  often 
led  to  open  warfare  in  the  family. 


142  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

WARNING. 

''  The  plain  good  man,  whose  actions  teach 
More  virtue  than  a  sect  can  preach, 
Pursues  his  course  unsagely  blest, 
His  tutor  whispering  in  his  breast; 
Nor  could  he  act  a  purer  part, 
Though  he  had  Tully  all  by  heart. 
And  when  he  drops  the  tear  on  woe, 
He  little  knows,  or  cares  to  know, 
That  Epictetus  blamed  that  tear, 
By  Heaven  approved,  to  Virtue  dear." 

MOORE. 

ONE  EXCEEDINGLY  hot  afternoon,  toward  the 
latter  end  of  August,  Colonel  Clarendon  and  his 
family  had  assembled  in  the  north  veranda  at  Wood- 
land Bluff.  Gregory  was  amusing  his  father  and  sis- 
ter with  a  graphic  account  of  his  experience  as  a  Fresh- 
man, when  suddenly  Colonel  Clarendon  pointed  toward 
Maple  Cliff. 

"  Look  there,"  he  said  ;   "  that  child  Agatha  running 


WARNING.  143 

in  this  broiling  sun,  and  without  a  bonnet !  She  is 
coming  here." 

Gregory  took  up  his  broad  Panama,  and  went  down 
the  steps,  saying,  "  There  must  be  something  wrong  at 
Maple  Cliff;  I  will  go  and  meet  her." 

The  long  avenue,  shaded  with  lindens  and  horse- 
chestnuts,  that  led  to  the  residence  of  the  Clarendons, 
was  a  gradual  descent,  winding  toward  the  road,  and 
Gregory  was  soon  in  its  shadow.  He  met  the  child 
near  the  entrance-gate,  heated  with  running,  and  pant- 
ing for  breath.  He  gently  drew  her  to  a  seat  under 
the  broad  shade  of  a  clump  of  hemlocks. 

"  I  got  away,"  she  exclaimed,  hastily,  her  face  flushed 
with  anger,  and  her  whole  frame  quivering,  "  and  I  '11 
not  go  back,"  she  added,  catching  her  breath. 

"  Don't  try  to  talk,  darling,  till  you  get  your  breath," 
said  Gregory,  soothingly,  stroking  her  tangled  curls, 
"  and  then  you  shall  tell  me  all." 

She  rested  but  a  moment,  then,  jumping  from  her 
seat  by  his  side,  her  face  crimson  with  passion,  and 
stamping  with  her  little  foot,  she  exclaimed,  "I  will 
go !  That  hateful  Miss  Morgan  has  no  right  to  pre- 
vent me.  —  neither  has  Chauncey !  I  will  go  to  the 


144  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

Gorge  with  Papsy  to-night.  I  promised  her,  and  they 
shall  not  keep  me.  If  I  would  have  told  a  lie,  as 
Papsy  wished  me,  I  could  have  gone  without  their 
knowing." 

Gregory  took  both  her  hot  hands  in  his,  and,  looking 
mournfully  into  her  angry  eyes,  he  said,  "  Agatha,  you 
and  I  have  sad  tempers  to  control.  I  have  been  as 
violent  as  you  are  now,  many  times  in  my  life,  but 
sorrow  always  followed,  even  if  I  obtained  what  I 
wanted." 

He  spoke  sadly,  and  there  was  such  a  depth  of  sym- 
pathy in  his  voice  and  manner,  that  the  child  sunk  sob- 
bing into  her  seat. 

"Agatha,"  he  said,  after  she  had  wept  some  time  in 
silence,  "  do  you  think  Miss  Morgan  or  your  brother 
can  have  anything  but  your  good  at  heart,  when  they 
refuse  you  this  walk  with  Papsy?" 

The  demon  was  roused  instantly.  "Yes,"  she  re- 
plied angrily ;  "  they  do  it  to  tease  me,  and  Miss  Mor- 
gan likes  to  show  her  authority,  but  I  '11  — " 

Gregory  turned  away  sorrowfully,  saying,  "  If  you 
never  mean  to  submit  to  rightful  authority,  I  can  do 
nothing  for  you." 


WARNING.  145 

'*  But  I  will  submit  to  Cousin  Nora  and  you,"  she 
replied,  weeping  bitterly,  "  for  you  speak  kind  and 
gentle  to  me." 

"  But  my  authority  is  only  self-constituted,  and  you 
are  not  bound  to  submit  to  it ;  while  Miss  Morgan  is 
your  teacher,  placed  over  you  in  the  Providence  of 
God,  and  it  is  your  duty  to  yield  to  her,  —  more  es- 
pecially in  the  absence  of  your  uncle." 

The  child  continued  to  sob  in  silence. 

"  Furthermore,  Agatha,"  he  continued,  drawing  her 
towards  him,  "  if  you  wish  me  to  continue  my  charge 
over  you,  my  commands  would  agree  with  those  of 
Miss  Morgan.  I  should  say,  by  no  means  go  to  the 
Gorge  with  Papsy  to-night." 

"  Poor  Papsy,"  said  the  child.  "  It  is  too  true,  as 
she  says,  nobody  cares  for  her  but  Agatha.'' 

"  That  is  not  true,"  said  Gregory,  decidedly.  "  Think 
how  my  sister  has  striven  for  her  good,  and  —  You 
don't  know,  Agatha,  all  that  has  been  done  for  her, 
nor  why  she  is  wholly  an  unfit  companion  for  you. 
She  is  wilful  and  disobedient,  and  I  am  afraid  a  life 
of  suffering  is  before  her."  After  a  moment's  pause, 
he  continued.  "  I  hear  of  you  often  at  the  Gorge  after 
7  j 


146  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

nightfall.  Will  you  tell  me  where  you  go,  and  whom 
you  meet?" 

The  little  girl  turned  away  from  his  gaze. 

"You  are  truth  itself,  my  child,"  he  added;  "and 
I  see  at  once  you  are  in  no  proper  company." 

The  young  man  arose,  and  walked,  back  and  forth, 
the  shady  path  where  they  were,  leaving  Agatha  in 
the  garden  chair.  He  was  determined  that  this  meet- 
ing in  the  Gorge  should  not  take  place  ;  but  decision 
must  be  mingled  with  gentleness,  if  he  would  carry  out 
bis  determination.  Presently  he  came  back  to  his  seat, 
and,  taking  the  child's  hand,  he  said  affectionately,  "  Aga- 
tha, you  are  a  pet  of  mine  ;  we  all  love  you  very  much 
at  Woodland;  now  would  you  rather  keep  Papsy  and 
her  company,  whoever  it  is,  at  the  Gorge,  or  the  love 
and  esteem  of  us  at  Woodland  ?  " 

She  hid  her  face  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Now,  my  child,  one  question  more.  I  give  yon 
my  word  that  no  one  shall  know  of  what  you  tell  me ; 
but  look  me  in  the  face  and  say,  does  Papsy  commu- 
nicate through  you  with  Dick  Walbridge  ?  " 

A  deep  blush  dyed  Agatha's  face,  neck,  and  arms, 
though  she  did  not  look  up. 


WARNING.  147 

"  Enough,"  said  Clarendon ;  "  you  have  not  spoken, 
but  it  is  quite  as  well.  Now,  I  will  tell  you  what  I 
know  of  Dick.  He  is  a  notoriously  bad  man,  and 
seeks  Papsy's  ruin;  and  I  cannot  —  I  cannot  have  you 
in  any  way  associated  with  them." 

"  I  do  not  think  Papsy  meant  harm  to  me,"  said 
Agatha,  looking  up  into  his  face  for  the  first  time ; 
"she  was  afraid  to  go  to  the  Bird's  Nest  alone,  be- 
cause it  is  haunted,  and  besides  she  could  not  read  the 
letters  herself." 

"  Letters !  ah ! "  said  Clarendon  in  a  tone  of  sur- 
prise. "  Does  Dick  wish  her  to  follow  him  ?  How 
many  have  there  been  ?  " 

"Three,"  replied  the  child,  reluctantly,  •" and  there 
will  be  another  to-night,  and  I  promised  I  would  go 
with  her,  and  read  it  for  her." 

"No,  Agatha,"  he  said  determinedly,  "if  you  value 
my  friendship,  you  will  renounce  this  scheme.  If  you 
knew  the  pleasure  it  will  give  Miss  Nora  and  me,  to 
see  you  an  obedient  little  girl,  I  am  persuaded  you 
would  give  up  this  intimacy  with  Papsy." 

"  But  I  promised  to  go  to-night,"  she  replied  timidly. 

"That   promise   you    have   no   right    to   keep.     You 


148  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MAKY. 

promised  to  do  wrong  ignorantly,  and  your  obligations 
to  your  Maker,  now  you  know  it  is  wrong,  require  you 
to  break  it.  Promise  me,"  he  said  gently,  — "  prom- 
ise me  that  you  will  not  go." 

She  promised,  half  reluctantly. 

"  You  have  done  so  much  for  me,"  he  continued, 
"  that  I  will  promise  to  do  what  I  can  for  Papsy,  and 
will  now  go  with  you  to  Maple  Cliff  and  make  your 
apologies  to  Miss  Morgan." 

j  Agatha  drew  back  a  little,  but  his  soothing  manner 
prevailed,  and  tli'-y  went  out  the  gate  together. 

"  Where  is  Gregory,  all  this  time  ?  "  said  the  Colonel 
to  his  daughter,  as  she  arose  to  go  into  the  house. 

"  I  think  he  must  be  in  the  shrubbery  with  Agatha," 
replied  Honora. 

"  Yes,  I  '11  be  bound,"  he  said,  "  she  is  in  some  pet, 
and  he  is  endeavoring  to  soothe  her.  You  see,  daugh- 
ter, it  is  as  I  said  with  this  child  and  her  teacher.  An 
alkali  and  an  acid  cannot  mix  without  effervescence. 
There  they  go,"  he  added,  as  Gregory  and  Agatha  ap- 
peared ascending  the  road  to  Maple  Cliff.  "  The  little 
minx !  how  small  she  is !  " 

"  She  is  scarcely  above  Gregory's  elbow,"  replied 
Honora. 


WARNING.  149 

That  evening,  Gregory  Clarendon  took  his  way  to 
the  Gorge.  His  promise  to  Agatha  to  do  what  he 
could  for  Papsy,  and  his  own  desire  to  do  right,  im- 
pelled him  on  the  errand  he  had  undertaken.  Had 
Mr.  Douglass  senior  been  at  home,  he  would  have  gone 
at  once  to  him  with  his  suspicions,  but  now  it  would 
be  better  to  act  alone.  The  thought  occurred  to  him 
that  he  was  placing  himself  in  an  awkward  predica- 
ment. What  a  nice  bit  of  scandal,  should  it  come  to 
the  ears  of  Mrs.  Dobbin  and  Company,  that  the  im- 
maculate young  Clarendon  went  down^tb  the  Gorge 
to  meet  Papsy.  But  the  brave  heart  was  nerved  with 
a  sense  of  right.  As  he  came  near  the  cottage,  he  saw 
a  dusky  form  skulking  around  the  corner  of  the  house. 
He  approached,  and  said  in  a  tone  of  authority,  "  Papsy, 
are  you  alone  ?  " 

She  did  not  reply,  but  stepped  forth  from  the  shadow 
of  the  trees  and  confronted  him  with  folded  arms  and 
downcast  eyes. 

"  I  have  come  to  you,"  said  Clarendon  earnestly, 
"  as  a  friend,  to  warn  you  for  the  last  time  of  the  wicked 
designs  of  Dick  Walbridge.  He  seeks  only  to  make 
you  as  bad  as  himself,  —  to  make  you  a  companion  for 
the  vicious." 


150  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  Go,  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone,  waving 
her  hand ;  "  useless,  —  useless ! " 

"  No,  Papsy,"  he  replied ;  "  remember  the  wrongs 
and  sufferings  of  your  mother.  Let  her  warning  voice 
be  heard.  Come  away  from  the  spot.  Come  to  Wood- 
land, and  Miss  Nora  and  I  will  find  you  a  shelter  where 
you  may  live  and  be  virtuous." 

"  Papsy's  virtue,"  she  replied  bitterly  ;  "  who  believes 
in  it  ?  who  cares  for  it  ?  Whites  tread  on  her !  Blacks 
won't  trust  her !  Despised  of  all !  No,  Mr.  Gregory, 
go,  —  useless,  —  useless  ! " 

"  Papsy,"  said  Clarendon,  "  what  you  have  said  is 
not  true.  Your  brother  would  save  you  from  rum  if 
you  would  let  him." 

"Yes,  to  slave  to  his  white  chickens,"  she  replied 
quickly. 

"  Once  more,"  said  Gregory,  solemnly  pointing  up- 
ward ;  "  you  are  perilling  your  immortal  soul.  Re- 
member, no  unclean  thing  can  enter  there." 


THE    PRODIGAL.  151 


CHAPTER    XX. 

THE   PRODIGAL. 

"  But  when  we  in  our  viciousness  grow  hard, 
(0,  misery  on't!)  the  wise  gods  seal  our  eyes; 
In  our  own  filth  drop  our  clear  judgments,  make  us 

Adore  our  errors." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

"And  yearns  not  her  paternal  heart 
To  hear  their  secret  sighs, 
Upon  whose  doubting  way  apart 

Bewildering  shadows  rise." 

KEBLE. 

FEOM  THE  first  wanderings  of  Richard  Walbridge 
from  his  father's  roof,  Papsy  had  been  the  medi- 
um of  communication  between  himself  and  his  mother. 
This  brought  them  often  together  in  intimate  and  fa- 
miliar intercourse.  Many  a  wild  winter  night  had  the 
child  Papsy  led  Richard  to  a  place  of  shelter,  when 
but  for  her,  intoxicated  as  he  was,  he  might  have 
perished  in  the  storm.  The  fall  of  this  young  man, 
from  the  comparative  innocence  of  his  boyhood,  to  the 


152  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

life  he  was  leading  when  first  introduced  to  our  read- 
ers, had  been  very  gradual.  It  cost  him  many  a  bitter 
struggle,  and  many  a  secret  tear,  to  trample  under  foot 
all  the  teachings  of  his  childhood.  How  mercifully  the 
path  of  the  Christian  child  is  hedged  about,  so  that  he 
that  would  break  down  the  barriers  that  separate  him 
from  the  world  must  crush  out  some  of  the  warmest 
instincts  of  his  nature,  defy  the  grace  given  him  in 
baptism,  and  quench  the  spirit  of  love,  that  strives  ever 
•with  him. 

The  home  of  Chet  had  been  open  to  Richard  till 
the  brother  mistrusted  his  intercourse  with  his  sister; 
then  the  mixed  blood  boiled  in  his  veins,  and  some- 
thing terrible  would  have  ensued ;  but  Richard,  know- 
ing he  was  no  match  for  Chet  in  physical  strength, 
had  taken  himself  out  of  the  way.  Chet  had  threat- 
ened Papsy  with  his  utmost  vengeance,  if  she  did  not 
at  once  and  forever  spurn  "Walbridge  from  her  sight; 
but  she,  his  equal  in  deadly  passion,  had  taunted  him 
with  his  own  white  wife,  and  asked  by  what  right  he 
interfered. 

When  Honora  Clarendon  sought  out  Richard,  the 
young  man  was  glad  of  the  means  to  escape  the  wrath 


THE    PRODIGAL.  153 

of  Chet,  which  he  knew  must  come  upon  him  in  the 
end. 

Papsy  had  often  obtained  money  for  him,  in  small 
sums,  to  pay  his  gambling  debts  and  give  him  means 
of  further  dissipation;  —  but  she  had  never  brought 
enough  to  carry  him  far  out  of  that  region.  With  the 
means  Miss  Clarendon  procured,  he  could  begone.  The 
heart  of  a  man  was  in  his  bosom,  and  the  wailings  of 
Papsy,  when  she  discovered  his  purpose,  smote  him 
with  a  bitter  pang.  The  stings  of  conscience,  that  told 
him  that  he  had  done  a  wrong  that  a  lifetime  of  re- 
pentance could  never  repair,  were  quieted  only  by  the 
intoxicating  cup. 

Between  the  Gorge  and  the  lower  village  there  was 
a  low  tavern,  the  bane  of  all  the  good,  a  perfect  nest 
of  wickedness.  This  had  latterly  been  the  home  of 
"Walbridge,  and  here  he  had  prepared  himself,  soul  and 
body,  for  the  life  he  afterwards  led.  When  he  parted 
from  Papsy,  he  had  torn  her  clinging  arms  from  about 
his  neck,  promising  to  write  often,  and  soon  to  send  for 
her.  In  these  promises,  the  poor  down-trodden  girl 
trusted.  Snubb,  the  idiotic  stable-boy  at  the  tavern, 
was  appointed  to  convey  Dick's  letters  to  Papsy.  Few 
7* 


154  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

had  they  been ;  but  to  her  like  the  far-off  sail  to  the 
shipwrecked  mariner. 

Agatha  had  often  wondered  in  her  own  mind,  why 
Richard  Walbridge,  with  his  education,  was  not  able  to 
spell.  Neither  she  nor  Papsy  guessed  that  he  was  de- 
ceiving her  even  then.  The  letters  were  written  by 
one  of  his  low  companions,  and  despatched  regularly  to 
the  place  appointed. 

The  temptations  of  New  York  caught  the  young 
rover  in  their  clutches,  and  before  Walbridge  had  been 
two  weeks  from  Rockridge,  every  penny  of  the  money 
that  had  been  procured  for  him  with  so  much  care 
was  squandered.  The  last  year  or  two  of  his  life  had 
fitted  him  for  low  company,  and  he  soon  found  his 
level.  There  was  plenty  of  occupation  in  the  gambling 
saloons,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he  was  initiated 
into  the  mysteries  of  a  large  class  of  society  in  cities, 
who  get  their  living  by  drawing  others  into  the  same 
net  in  which  they  have  been  caught.  After  a  few 
months,  Dick  found  it  convenient  to  assume  a  disguises, 
he  having  been  very  nearly  discovered  by  a  merchant 
from  Rockridge.  He'  colored  his  very  fair  skin  a  deep 
olive,  and  blackened  his  eyebrows  and  the  light  brown 


THE    PRODIGAL.  155 

waves  of  his  hair.  To  this  disguise  of  person  he  add- 
ed a  new  name,  and  was  known  among  his  associates 
as  Dan  Washington.  Having  thus  fairly  plunged  into 
the  vortex  of  sin,  he  fast  ripened  into  a  thorough  rogue. 

"When  souls  nurtured  in  the  bosom  of  the  Church 
throw  off  the  bands  of  righteous  restraint,  and  yield 
their  powers  servants  of  sin,  they  plunge  to  greater 
excess,  and  are  found  bolder  in  wickedness  than  those 
who  have  sinned  against  no  such  grace,  and  broken  no 
solemn  vows.  Richard  had  talents  and  perseverance, 
but  they  had  not  been  put  to  any  proper  use.  The 
excitement  of  getting  his  living  by  his  wits  called  them 
forth,  and  his  ingenious  and  brilliant  schemes  for  mak- 
ing money  without  labor  were  the  admiration  of  his 
companions.  These  schemes  were  continual,  for  an  un- 
occupied, solitary  moment  rung  in  his  soul  the  knell  of 
departed  goodness,  purity,  and  worth. 

In  the  mean  time  there  were  few  hi  Rockridge,  except 
the  dark-browed  girl  whom  he  had  ruined,  and  his 
parents,  who  mourned  for  him,  or  thought  of  him.  To 
his  little  sister  he  had  ever  been  like  some  far  off  ob- 
ject, that  she  might  look  at,  but  could  never  approach. 


156  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.   MARY. 

The  end  of  Agatha's  first  year  at  Maple  Cliff  was 
drawing  to  a  close.  To  say  she  had  changed  in  that 
time,  would  be  to  say  only  what  is  true  of  every  girl 
at  her  age.  She  had  gained  a  little  in  size,  and  her 
manners  had  acquired  a  less  childish  tone.  But  her 
independence  and  wilfulness,  though  not  so  apparent, 
were  unsubdued.  She  still  questioned  and  cavilled  at 
every  point  of  disagreeable  duty,  and  at  every  doctrine 
she  could  not  comprehend.  Often  she  proposed  ques- 
tions to  Miss  Morgan,  which  that  lady,  in  her  well- 
defined,  unquestioning  faith,  found  difficult  to  answer. 
Charlotte  had  no  charity  for  her  doubts,  and  would  not 
reply  to  her  cavils.  Yet  they  were  real  doubts,  and 
the  child  would  have  been  strengthened  hi  her  unbe- 
lief, and  settled  in  her  habit  of  questioning,  if  she  had 
not  been  blest  with  the  confidence  of  one  who  had 
himself  known  difficulties,  and  felt  the  temptation  to 
doubt  To  Gregory  therefore  she  went,  straightway, 
with  all  questions,  whether  moral  or  religious;  and  he 
and  Honora,  from  whom  she  had  no  reserves,  often 
wondered  at  the  depth  of  her  thoughts. 

"It  is  a  critical  time  with  that  child,  sister,"  said 
Gregory,  after  a  return  from  a  walk  with  Agatha, 


THE    PRODIGAL.  157 

where  she  had  been  questioning  him  on  the  doctrines 
of  the  Catechism,  which,  by  his  request,  she  was  dili- 
gently studying,  settling  hi  her  own  mind,  as  she  pro- 
ceeded, how  much  she  should  believe.  "  It  is  a  critical 
time  with  her,  Honora.  She  will  never  give  her  affec- 
tions to  any  faith  till  her  intellect  assents,  and  with  her 
pride  it  will  be  difficult  to  convince  her  of  the  depravity 
of  man  and  his  utter  helplessness  without  Divine  aid, 
and  — "  He  paused,  i 

Honora  looked  up  from  her  work,  and  replied :  — 

" '  'T  is  He  that  works  to  will, 
'T  is  He  that  works  to  do.' 

And  we  must  pray  and  work  for  her,  dear  brother, 
trusting  in  that  grace  which  is  vouchsafed  to  those  who 
sail  for  it  by  diligent  prayer." 

"Yes,"  said  Gregory,  thoughtfully;  "but  I  wish 
Charlotte's  influence  was  a  little  different  She  is  a 
nice  girl,  —  intellectual,  lady-like,  conscientious,  and  de- 
vout ;  but  there  is  something  wanting.  Agatha  respects 
her,  without  caring  a  fig  for  her  opinion.  You  must 
have  an  eye  to  the  child's  reading  this  winter;  —  she 
has  a  perfect  mania  in  that  line,  and  you  know  the 
library  at  Maple  Cliff  has  lately  had  an  addition  of 


158  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

many  modern  infidel  writers,  full  of  subtle  poison.  I 
have  warned  Agatha  of  the  effect  of  such  reading,  and 
asked  her  to  consult  you  about  books ;  and  she  has 
promised  to  write  to  me  while  I  am  away.  I  don't 
know,"  he  added,  "  why  I  feel  such  an  interest  in  this 
child,  except  that  she  is  uncommonly  interesting  her- 
self as  a  study." 


PAPSY    AN    OUTCAST.  159 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

PAPSY  AN   OUTCAST. 

"  Think  gently  of  the  erring; 
O,  do  not  thou  forget, 
However  darkly  stained  by  sin, 
He  is  thy  brother  yet! 
Heir  of  the  self-same  heritage, 
Child  of  the  self-same  God, 
He  hath  but  stnmbled  in  the  path 
Thou  hast  hi  weakness  trod." 

"  If  they  who  hate  the  trespass  most, 
Yet,  when  all  other  love  is  lost, 
Love  the  poor  sinner,  marvel  not,  — 
Christ's  mark  outwears  the  rankest  blot." 

KEBLE. 

THE  YELLOW  leaves  of  autumn  had  appeared, 
and  yet  Gregory  Clarendon  still  lingered  at 
Woodland  Bluff.  His  natural  diffidence  to  seek  the 
clerical  profession  had  given  way  to  the  urgent  wishes 
of  his  father  and  the  gentle  solicitations  of  his  sister. 
He  would  have  left  home  for  the  Theological  Semi- 


160  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

nary  early  in  the  autumn,  but  for  the  dangerous  illness 
of  his  father.  His  parent  had  now  nearly  recovered 
his  usual  health,  and  in  two  days  Gregory  was  to  take 
his  departure  for  New  York.  Mr.  Douglass  the  elder 
had  been  at  Maple  Cliff  the  last  week,  and  was  pre- 
paring for  his  departure  to  Scotland. 

Honora  was  enjoying  a  quiet  evening  with  her 
brother,  after  the  Colonel  had  retired,  when  suddenly 
the  door  of  the  library  was  opened,  and  Chauncey 
Douglass  entered,  with  Miss  Morgan  and  Agatha.  The 
tearful  eyes  of  the  child  drew  the  attention  of  Claren- 
don as  he  stooped  to  greet  her.  "  Eyes  wet  with 
tears ! "  he  said  ;  "  why  is  this  ?  " 

The  tone  and  manner  overcame  Agatha's  forced  com- 
posure, and  she  sobbed  violently.  Clarendon  looked  to 
her  companions  for  an  explanation. 

"  It  is  her  sorrow  for  her  yellow  friend,"  said  Chaun- 
cey. "  You  know,  I  suppose,  that  my  uncle  has  driven 

the  has  turned  Papsy  out  of  doors."  Seeing  the 

astonishment  of  the  Clarendons  at  this  announcement, 
he  added :  "  It  was  high  time,  for  the  credit  of  the  fam- 
ily, she  should  leave.  Had  my  authority  extended  to 
her,  she  would  have  gone  long  ago." 


PAPSY    AN    OUTCAST.  161 

Agatha  did  not  reply  angrily  to  her  brother's  re- 
marks, as  Gregory  feared  she  would,  but  whispered 
between  her.  sobs,  "  But  he  has  turned  her  into  the 
street,  and  Chet  has  forbidden  her  to  come  there,  and 
she  has  been  out  two  of  these  cold  nights,  without  any- 
body to  care  for  her." 

"  Is  this  so,  Charlotte  ? "  said  Honora,  whose  quick 
ear  had  heard  the  sad  tale. 

"I  do  not  know  to  the  contrary,"  replied  Miss  Mor- 
gan. "I  know  that  Mr.  Douglass  and  Chet  have  closed 
their  doors  against  her." 

"  Gregory,"  said  Honora,  going  to  the  hall  for  her 
overshoes,  "  this  must  not  be !  A  place  of  shelter 
must  be  found  for  the  poor  girl." 

"To-night,  sister?"  he  replied,  going  towards  her. 
"  It  is  late  and  quite  dark ;  you  will  hardly  find  her 
to-night.  I  would  not  go  till  morning?" 

"  It  is  not  like  you,  brother,  to  say  that,"  she  said, 
putting  back  the  black  locks  that  shaded  his  brow. 
"  Could  I  sleep  quietly,  and  know  that  a  human  being, 
a  woman,  —  a  child,  I  may  say, —  was  near  me  without 
a  covering  for  her  head?  No,  Gregory,  you  may  go 
with  me,  but  I  shall  go." 

K 


162  THE    CHAPEL     OF    ST.    MARY. 

"Dear,  dear,  gentle,  good,  sweet  cousin  Nora!"  ex- 
claimed Agatha,  clasping  her  arms  about  Honora's 
neck.  "How  I  wish  I  could  go  with  you,  but  uncle 
has  forbidden  me  ever  to  do  anything  again  for  poor 
Papsy." 

"  Honora,"  said  Charlotte,  going  towards  her  as  she 
prepared  herself  for  the  walk ;  "  do  you  really  mean 
to  go?  To-night?" 

Honora  looked  at  her  friend  with  a  slight  shade  of 
displeasure,  as  she  said,  "  Charlotte,  are  you  a  woman, 
and  ask  me  that  question?" 

"  But  do  you  know,"  replied  Charlotte,  in  a  whis- 
per, "how  she  has  conducted,  —  what  disgrace  she  has 
brought  upon  the  family?  She  really  deserves  to  suf- 
fer a  while  for  her  sin?" 

"  Deserves  to  suffer,  Charlotte ! "  said  Honora,  sor- 
rowfully. "  Let  him  that  is  without  sin  cast  the  first 
stone ! " 

"  Dear  Honora,"  said  Charlotte,  while  tears  stood  in 
her  eyes  for  the  uncharitable  word,  "I  was  hasty, — 
very  hasty.  I  will  not  ask  you  to  stay.  Let  me  go 
with  you." 

"No,  Miss  Charlotte,"  said  Chauncey  Douglass,  who 


PAPSY    AN    OUTCAST.  163 

overheard  the  last  remark;  "you  must  not  go.  If 
these  foolish  people  wish  to  put  themselves  to  incon- 
venience for  this  — "  A  look  from  Clarendon  checked 
him ;  but  after  an  instant  he  added,  "  I  know  my  uncle 
so  well,  that  I  assure  you  disobedience  to  his  peremp- 
tory commands,  in  any  member  of  the  family,  would 
bar  the  doors  against  that  person  forever ;  and  he  swore 
by  all  that  is  sacred  — " 

"You  are  right,  Chauncey,"  said  Clarendon,  inter- 
rupting the  young  man,  who  was  getting  somewhat 
excited.  "  You  and  Miss  Morgan  and  this  little  girl," 
he  added,  patting  Agatha's  head,  "may  not  go.  Mr. 
Douglass  would  never  forgive  you.  Honora  and  I  can 
do  very  well ;  indeed,  I  think  I  may  go  alone." 

"No,  brother,"  said  Honora,  who  had  busied  herself 
in  putting  up  articles  of  comfort  for  the  sufferer,  "this 
is  not  an  errand  for  you  to  do  alone." 

Charlotte's  uncharitable  thought,  and  the  remem- 
brance of  her  unforgiving  example,  were  causing  her 
bitter  anguish,  and  she  was  forbidden  to  do  anything 
to  relieve  the  poor  girl. 

The  moon  had  not  risen  when  Clarendon  and  his 
sister  went  on  their  errand  of  mercy.  Hazy  clouds 
obscured  the  stars,  and  it  was  beginning  to  rain. 


164  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"Does  this  strike  you,  brother,  as  it  does  me?"  said 
Honora,  as  they  went  rapidly  along.  "  I  feel  such  a 
sense  of  injustice  for  Papsy." 

"Yes,  I  understand,"  said  Gregory,  holding  tightly 
the  little  arm  that  trembled  in  his.  "If  this  were  a 
white  girl,  or  a  black  girl,  she  would  find  friends 
somewhere ;  but  cursed  as  she  is  with  a  mixed  blood, 
she  is  left  without  a  shelter.  Is  that  what  you  would 
say?" 

"  Partly,  brother,"  she  replied  hesitatingly.  "  Poor 
Papsy !  so  young !  She  is  but  seventeen.  It  does 
seem  intensely  cruel  in  Mr.  Douglass  to  cast  her  off 
thus,  when  he  has  left  her  to  run  wild  all  her  life  ?  " 

"Cruel!"  replied  her  brother;  "in  this  case  his  con- 
duct" is  fiendish ! " 

"Don't  you  think  we  can  persuade  Chet  to  take  her 
in?"  she  asked  after  a  long  pause. 

"  If  I  can  prevent  his  putting  an  end  to  Dick  TTal- 
bridge  the  first  opportunity,  it  is  all  I  can  hope  from 
Chet.  If  Dick  should  cross  his  path,  I  would  not  in- 
sure his  life  for  a  moment." 

"  But  Dick  will  not  come  to  Rockridge,"  said  Hono- 
ra. "Why  then  shouldn't  Chet  take  in  Papsy?" 


PAPSY    AN    OUTCAST.  165 

"  Rosa  would  object,"  replied  her  brother.  "  Per- 
haps we  may  get  her  in  with  Aunt  Polly,  if  I  can 
induce  Chet  to  look  at  the  matter  a  little  calmly." 

"I  think  we  shall  find  her  at  the  Bird's  Nest,"  said 
Honora ;  "  and  we  can  go  over  in  the  Judge's  skiff.  It 
is  moored  about  here." 

"  Perhaps  I  had  better  run  up  and  ask  the  Judge 
for  Papsy,  before  we  cross  the  river,"  said  Clarendon. 

Honora  waited  on  the  brink  of  the  stream  while  her 
brother  went  to  the  hut.  He  found  the  Judge  about 
to  close  up  his  accounts  for  the  night,  in  his  red-flannel 
cap. 

"  Do  you  know  where  Papsy  is,  Judge  ? "  said 
Clarendon,  as  the  occupant  of  the  hut  slowly  opened 
the  rickety  door. 

"  Lor'  bless  you,  Mr.  Gregory,"  he  replied,  "  you 
eenermost  scared  the  life  out  on  me.  Well,  now, 
you  see,  Papsy  came  over  here,  to-day  is  two  days, 
and  me  and  my  old  'oman  would  ha'  taken  her  in 
just  like  that,"  he  said,  snapping  his  fingers,  "only 
the  Deacon  came  down  and  said,  if  we  harbored  such 
varmint,  he  'd  turn  us  out  neck  and  heel-." 

'•  Can  you  tell  me,  Judge,  where  she  is  now  ?  My 
si-tt-r  and  I  have  come  down  to  find  her  a  shelter." 


166  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"Well,  now,"  replied  the  Judge,  "my  old  'oman 
see'd  her  just  at  daylightin'  down  over  yonder,"  — 
pointing  to  the  Bird's  Nest.  Gregory  ran  down  the 
bank,  unmoored  the  boat,  and  struck  out  into  the 
river.  The  old  man  stood  peering  out  into  the  dark- 
ness for  a  moment,  then,  closing  the  door,  he  muttered, 
"The  good  Lord  does  give  us  some  kind  critters." 

As  Clarendon  and  his  sister  came  near  the  cottage, 
they  discerned  a  figure  prostrate  in  the  stoop. 

"  Stay  here,  brother ;  let  me  go  to  her,"  said  Honora, 
gently  loosing  her  arm  from  his.  She  came  and  bent 
over  the  prostrate  form.  "Papsy,"  she  whispered;  but 
there  was  no  sound,  and  the  hand  she  raised  fell  life- 
less by  her  side. 

Gregory  raised  the  head  till  it  rested  in  Honora's 
lap.  "  Exposure  to  hunger  and  cold ! "  he  said,  mourn- 
fully. His  sister's  tears  fell  fast,  as  she  strove  to  pour 
wine  between  the  closed  lips  of  the  miserable  girl. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  said  Gregory.  The  tone  was 
unusually  despairing  for  his  resolute  nature. 

"My  brother,"  said  Honora,  "go  to  Chet,  reason 
with  him,  plead  with  him.  He  must  hear  you.  Go, 
brother  J " 

"  And  leave  you  here  ?  "  questioned  Gregory. 


PAPSY    AN    OUTCAST.  lt)7 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "I  am  not  afraid.  Of  what 
should  I  be  afraid?" 

He  hesitated ;  then,  taking  off  his  cloak,  he  wrapped 
it  about  his  sister,  saying,  "I  can  keep  warm  walking, 
but  you,  my  brave  girl,  may  chance  to  take  cold,  sit- 
ting in  this  chilly  night  'air." 

In  a  few  moments  the  door  of  Chet's  castle  was 
opened  to  Gregory  by  the  master  of  the  house:  Claren- 
don beckoned  to  him,  and  they  walked  out. 

"  I  have  come,"  said  Gregory,  pausing  on  the  brow 
of  the  cliff,  "  to  plead  for  Papsy.  Remember  your 
mother,  Chet,  and  let  us  go  together  and  bring  this 
poor  homeless  girl  to  a  place  of  shelter." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  replied  Chet,  "  my  mother  suffered 
for  her  sin.  Papsy  has  chosen  the  same  course.  Let 
her  take  her  choice.  I  warned  her,  I  threatened  her, 
but  she  only  taunted  me;  —  and  the  white  villain,"  he 
said,  laying  his  hand  on  the  pistol  he  always  carried, 
"I  swear  shall  know  my  vengeance!" 

"  Stay,"  said  Gregory,  putting  his  finger  on  his  arm, 
"don't  make  rash  vows.  Let  us  not  think  of  the  in- 
jurer,  but  the  injured.  I  ask  it  as  a  personal  favor 
to  me  and  my  sister,  who  is  waiting  in  the  valley  be- 


168  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

low,  watching  over  Papsy,  who  lies  in  an  insensible 
state ;  I  ask  it  as  a  proof  of  your  friendship  for  us, 
that  you  will  come  and  help  us  find  a  roof  to  shelter 
this  friendless  girl.~  She  has  done  very  wrong,  I  grant, 
Chet ;  but  if  Miss  Nora  forgives  her,  and  seeks  to  help 
her,  should  you  and  I  be  bitter  against  her  ? " 

The  appeal  was  felt.  Chet's  hand  dropped  from 
his  pistol,  as  he  said,  "  Miss  Nora  is  an  angel !  I  will 

g°-" 

"  Can 't  we  find  room  for  her  with  Aunt  Polly  ? " 
said  Clarendon.  This  suggestion  was  evidently  a  relief 
to  Chet. 

Old  Aunt  Polly  was  glad  to  do  anything  to  please 
Mr.  Clarendon,  but  the  black  face  of  Orbie  gath- 
ered a  new  cloud  as  she  said,  "Why  don't  white 
folks  take  her  in  ?  Nasty,  dirty  tramp  !  "  —  and  then 
followed  a  string  of  degrading  epithets. 

"  Shut  up,  Orbie  !"  said  Chet,  authoritatively.  "Papsy 
has  disgraced  herself,  but  there  are  those  older  in  the 
ways  of  sin  than  she."  The  storm  was  hushed  by  this 
gentle  reminder,  and  a  bed  was  prepared  for  the  girl 
whom  she  professed  to  hold  in  such  contempt. 

In    the    mean    time,   Honora    watched    for    the    first 


PAPSY    AN    OUTCAST.  169 

symptoms    of    returning    life.      Once    the    eyes    slowly 
opened,  and  then  closed  painfully. 

"  Poor  Papsy,"  whispered  Honora,  tenderly. 

"  Wicked  Papsy,"  muttered  the  girl,  in  a  husky  voice. 

" '  He  is  gracious  and  merciful,  slow  to  anger,  abun- 
dant in  goodness  and  truth,' "  replied  Honora,  in  a  low 
tone. 

Miss  Clarendon  knew  that  her  brother's  errand  must 
necessarily  consume  much  time,  and  she  waited  pa- 
tiently. She  was  aroused  from  a  real  nod  by  the  sound 
of  the  splashing  oars.  Holding  out  her  hand  as  Chet 
came  near,  she  said,  "Thank  you."  He  touched  the 
tip  of  those  delicate  fingers,  and  bowed  low,  without 
speaking.  He  raised  Papsy  in  his  arms,  and  Claren- 
don and  his  sister  followed  in  silence.  Chet  never 
wearied  of  his  burden,  or  paused  to  rest,  till  he  laid 
her  on  the  cot  prepared  for  her.  Honora,  with  Orbie's 
help,  removed  the  outer  garments,  which  were  saturated 
with  the  night  dew,  and  it  was  not  long  before  increas- 
ing warmth  restored  Papsy  to  consciousness ;  and  Clar- 
endon, who  had  made  arrangements  to  have  her  well 
cared  for,  insisted  that  Honora  should  now  return 
home. 

8 


170  THE    CHAPEL     OF     ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

GOSSIP. 

"  The  circle  smiled,  then  whispered,  and  then  sneered, 
The  misses  bridled,  and  the  matrons  frowned; 
Some  hoped  things  might  not  turn  out  as  they  feared, 
Some  would  not  deem  such  women  could  be  found." 

BYRON. 

«  "YTOU  DON'T  say  so ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ridgway 
JL  in  a  half-whisper  to  her  friend  Mrs.  Dobbin, 
as  that  lady  mysteriously  held  up  her  finger,  and  sig- 
nified that  the  story  she  had  related  was  really  true. 
"Well,  now,  Mrs.  Dobbin,  this  comes  hard  on  them 
old  folks,  Walbridge  and  his  wife.  How  '11  they  stand 
it?" 

"  So  much'  for  bringing  up  children  as  if  they  was 
Christians,"  replied  Mrs.  Dobbin.  "  I  tell'd  the  Dea- 
con how  matters  would  turn  out  long  ago." 

"  The  young  feller  won't  dare  to  show  himself  in 
these  parts,  I  reckon,"  said  Mrs.  Ridgway,  looking 


GOSSIP.  171 

askance  at  her  daughter  Julia.  This  amiable  young 
lady  was  professedly  practising  at  the  piano,  but  really 
listening  eagerly  to  the  gossip. 

"  Why  not,  ma  ?  "  she  said  sharply,  rising  and  coming 
towards  her  mother.  "  Nobody  will  think  the  less  of 
Richard  Walbridge  for  this  faux  pas.  I  know  I  sha'n't 
for  one,"  she  added,  tossing  her  head. 

"  To  be  sure,"  replied  Mrs.  Dobbin  ;  "  Julia  is  right. 
But  I  really  don't  know  who  's  to  take  care  of  the  girl. 
I  think  the  town  ought  to  oblige  Mr.  Douglass  to  do 
that." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Ridgway,  "  one  would  sup- 
pose he  'd  do  that  for  his  own  credit.  But  Rodney 
Douglass  never  did  care  a  pin  for  what  folks  said 
about  him." 

"  I  guess  this  niece  he 's  adopted  takes  after  him," 
replied  Mrs.  Dobbin.  ",I  spoke  to  her  last  summer 
about  racing  the  streets  with  this  Papsy.  My  good- 
ness gracious !  How  mad  she  was !  She  said  she 
believed  she  should  n't  ask  the  people  of  Rockridge 
who  she  should  walk  with." 

"  She  is  an  impertinent  little  huzzy,"  said  Julia ;  "  and 
so  mighty  fond  of  this  Papsy !  The  chambermaid  at 


172  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MABY. 

the  Cliff  told  our  cook  that  Miss  Morgan  and  young 
Douglass  locked  her  up  to  prevent  her  going  with  her, 
and  she  got  out  of  the  window  and  ran  away." 

"  They  say,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Dobhin,  "  that  Honora 
Clarendon,  after  all,  is  really  going  to  marry ;  and  to 
that  poor  painter  who  was  there  last  summer.  War- 
ner's son  Bill  told  Ann  Tildy  there  was  letters  to  him 
often." 

"  I  don't  believe  that !  "  said  Julia,  positively.  "  He 
is  as  poor  as  Job's  turkey,  and  you  '11  find  Nora  Clar- 
endon will  look  out  for  the  main  chance,  as  well  as 
other  folks." 

"  I  always  thought  our  Tom  liked  her,"  timidly  sug- 
gested the  fond  mother. 

"  Tom  !  "  replied  Julia,  sneeringly.  "  She  would  n't 
wipe  her  old  shoes  on  him." 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  say  so,"  whined  Eliza, 
who  had  left  her  book  of  devotional  reading,  which  she 
had  produced  when  Mrs.  Dobbin  entered,  and  joined 
the  group,  who  were  hashing  up  their  neighbors. 
"  I  'm  sure  our  Tom  is  fine-looking,  and  then,  you 
know,  father  is  worth  a  groat  deal  more  -than  Colonel 
Clarendon." 


GOSSIP.  173 

"Colonel  Clarendon!"  replied  Mrs.  Dobbin  con- 
temptuously. "  Why,  he  has  only  a  very  small  income, 
and  your  father  is  the  richest  man  in  these  parts.  I  'm 
sure  Honora  Clarendon  may  be  thankful  to  jump  into 
such  a  fortune.  I  know  my  girls  would  be,  any  time. 
But  somehow,  I  take  the  most  of  a  fancy  to  her 
brother,  though  the  Deacon  will  have  it  that  he  's  very 
nigh  a  Papist !  " 

"  0  no,"  said  Eliza  eagerly,  reddening  to  the  very 
temples  as  she  spoke,  "the  Deacon  is  mistaken.  Gre- 
gory Clarendon  has  no  Romish  tendencies  whatever. 
He  is  a  zealous,  active  Christian,  —  a  little  too  stren- 
uous, perhaps,  for  church  practices,  but  age  and  ex- 
perience will  soften  these.  Indeed,  Mrs.  Dobbin,  he 
is  —  " 

"  A  model  of  a  man,"  said  Tom  Ridgway,  who  had 
entered  the  room  during  her  eulogies  upon  Clarendon. 
"  A  model  of  a  man,  at  least  in  your  eyes." 

"Now,  Tom,  you  are  too  bad,"  replied  the  dam- 
sel in  a  mincing  voice.  "  I  was  only  defending  Mr. 
Clarendon  against  the  imputation  of  Romish  tenden- 
cies." 

"  Romish   fiddlesticks ! "  said  the  brother  contemptu- 


174  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

ously.  "  But,  Eliza,"  he  added,  with  a  look  at  Julia, 
"  what  do  you  think  of  your  model,  —  out  last  night 
till  near  midnight,  searching  for  Papsy,  getting  her 
in  with  Aunt  Polly,  and  providing  for  all  her  present 
wants." 

"  How  you  talk  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ridgway  and  Mrs. 
Dobbin,  in  a  breath. 

"  His  model  sister  was  with  him  in  the  search,"  added 
Tom,  observing  a  triumphant  look  on  Mrs.  Dobbin's 
face,  "  and  through  her  persuasions  a  shelter  was  ob- 
tained for  the  poor  thing." 

"  Well,  that  is  queer  !  "  said  Mrs.  Dobbin,  in  a  doubt- 
ful tone. 

"  Now,  girls,"  continued  Tom,  "  here 's  a  chance  to 
show  your*  Christian  charity  you  tatk  so  much  about ; 
this  girl  is  wholly  destitute." 

"  You  don't  propose  for  us  to  go  and  see  her ! "  said 
Eliza,  rolling  up  her  eyes  with  holy  horror. 

"  Why  not,  little  sis  ?  "  replied  the  young  man.  "  She 
will  not  harm  you,  any  more  than  she  did  Miss  Claren- 
don." 

"You  speak  as  if  you  were  personally  interested," 
said  Julia  with  a  sneer. 


GOSSIP.  175 

"  You  are,  or  ought  to  be,  personally  interested,"  he 
retorted. 

"  Does  Dr.  Walbridge  know  these  reports  ?  "  inquired 
the  mother. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  young  man ;  "  there  are  always 
those  who  carry  such  news.  I  am  told  he  wrings  his 
hands  and  weeps  continually.  Such  an  event,  in  a 
town  so  noted  for  morality  and  uprightness,  makes  a 
great  stir  among  the  dry  bones." 

It  was  true,  as  Tom  Ridgway  had  said.  The  ex- 
pulsion of  Papsy  from  her  home  at  Maple  Cliff,  and 
its  cause,  was  more  than  a  nine  days'  wonder  at  Rock- 
ridge  Post-Office,  the  centre  of  gossip  and  town  talk, 
from  which  the  streams  of  intelligence  radiated  to  the 
homes  and  hearths  of  the  inhabitant?.  The  dignity  and 
high  position  of  Dr.  Walbridge  in  the  community,  Mr. 
Douglass's  connection  with  Papsy,  his  having  turned 
her  into  the  street,  her  brother's  doors  barred  against 
her,  and  the  Clarendons  having  come  to  her  relief,  all 
served  to  season  the  gossip,  and  dish  it  up  in  a  most 
palatable.,  form.  Before  many  weeks,  Dr.  Walbridge  re- 
signed his  situation  as  Rector  of  the  Church  in  Rockridge. 
tie  could  not  stay  where  the  face  of  every  man  seemed 


176  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MAKY. 

gazing  into  his  heart's  bitterness.  Before  Christmas,  he 
had  journeyed  no  one  knew  whither.  Mrs.  "Walbridge 
consoled  herself  with  the  thought  that  her  dear  Rich- 
ard would  return  from  California  laden  with  golden 
stores,  and  make  amends  by  his  wealth  for  all  his  de- 
linquencies. 


WALTON    AN    INVALID.  177 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

WALTON  AN   INVALID. 

"Mistake  me  not;  nor  let  one  shadow  fall 
Upon  thy  heart  already  worn  with  pain; 
Let  me  but  love  thee,  serve  thee,  this  is  all; 
Grant  me  but  this,  and  I  am  strong  again. 
Strong,  —  for  to  love  thee,  though  thou  art  not  mine, 
Is  to  my  homeless  heart  an  altar  and  a  shrine." 

CHRISTMAS  WAS  near  at  hand.  Mr.  Douglass 
had  sailed  for  Europe,  after  disgusting  his  nephew 
by  the  directions,  minute  and  exact  almost  to  absurdity, 
that  he  had  given  in  writing  for  the  management  of 
his  estate.  The  young  man  would  have  thrown  ~'9 
the  whole  affair,  but  for  an  incipient  feeling  in  his 
heart  unacknowledged  even  to  himself.  The  respect 
which  from  the  first  he  had  entertained  for  Miss  Mor- 
gan was  sftwly  ripening  into  something*  Very  like  love. 
Honora  alone,  of  all  the  world,  with  her  habit  of  watch- 
ing the  variations  of  countenance,  had  allowed  the 


178  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

thought  for  a  moment  to  cross  her  mind.  But  indis- 
tinct as  was  the  feeling,  it  had  served  to  curb  the  pride 
that  would  have  broken  away  from  liis  uncle's  restraint, 
and  kept  Chauncej  still  master  at  Maple  Cliff. 

There  had  been  doubt  about  Walton's  return  with 
Gregory  for  the  holidays,  on  account  of  feeble  health ; 
but  Colonel  Clarendon  would  not  hear  of  a  disappoint- 
ment, and  had  written  himself  to  the  artist,  urging  rest, 
as  necessary  for  him ;  and  two  days  before  Christmas, 
a  letter  came  from  Gregory  which  settled  the  matter, 
and  will  give  an  insight  into  young  Clarendon's  daily 
doings. 

NEW  YORK,  Dec.  23,  18—. 
Mr  DEAR  SISTER  :  — 

Father's  letter  to  Robert  did  what  I  fear  I  could 
never  have  accomplished,  and  he  has  consented  to 
return  with  me  for  the  holidays.  He  has  a  trouble- 
some cough;  but  I  wrote  him  Aunt  Martha  would 
delight  in  "  nursing  him  up."  I  had  a  precious  letter 
from  Agatha  yesterday,  full  of  that  outgushing  child- 
like warmth  of  heart  that  makes  her  so  IdVely.  She 
gives  good  accounts  of  her  reading  and  studies,  but 
does  not  speak  in  the  most  loving  manner  of  your  new 


WALTON    AN    INVALID.  179 

rector,  my  friend  Mr.  Clement.  It  seems,  in  reply  to 
one  of  her  strange,  mystical  questions,  he  told  her 
"submission  was  more  becoming  in  a  child  than  ques- 
tioning." 

You  speak  of  my  walks  among  the  poor ;  I  wish  you 
would  join  in  my  deep  interest  in  a  destitute  English 
family  in  this  large  city.  I  long  to  transplant  them 
to  a  purer  atmosphere.  One  of  the  most  trying  fea- 
tures of  life  in  town  is  the  surrounding  misery  that 
one  cannot  relieve.  The  father  of  this  family  is  full 
seventy,  totally  blind,  supported  by  his  two  daughters, 
who  get  a  meagre  living  by  copying. 

They  have  evidently  been  deep  sufferers,  and  there 
is  an  air  of  refinement  and  good  breeding  about  them 
that  is  very  attractive. 

Please  say  to  father  I  met  General  Winchester  and 
his  belle  daughter,  at  the  only  party  I  have  attended. 
Miss  Winchester  is  the  reigning  beauty  in  their  set, — 
a  splendid  girl  personally,  but  I  judge  an  inveterate 
flirt.  She  inquired  lovingly  for  you. 

The  days  seem  long,  my  own  sister,  till  I  fold  you 
to  my  heart. 

YOUR  LOVING  BROTHER. 


180  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

Christmas  Eve  had  brought  the  friends  to  the  fire- 
side at  Woodland.  But  alas !  for  the  fallacy  of  all  hu- 
man hopes,  Walton  had  taken  cold  on  the  journey. 
His  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  his  breathing  so  impeded, 
that  before  the  dawn  of  the  great  festival  Dr.  Wood- 
bury  was  summoned,  and  pronounced  his  patient  on 
the  verge  of  lung  fever. 

This  was  a  grand  finale  to  the  projected  walks  to  the 
Gorge,  and  plans  for  a  chapel  there,  which  Mr.  Cle- 
ment proposed,  and  for  which  they,  as  gentlemen  of  taste, 
were  to  select  the  most  suitable  site.  To  Walton  came 
the  trial  in  its  severest  form,  not  only  to  lose  the  de- 
light of  his  anticipated  visit,  but  the  putting  his  kind 
friends  to  trouble  and  inconvenience  distressed  him.  He 
had  been  disciplined  and  nurtured  in  the  school  of  trial, 
however,  and  he  did  not  murmur.  The  sick  man's  cham- 
ber was  brightened  by  a  group  of  friends,  each  striving 
to  relieve  him  of  physical  suffering  and  anxious  care. 

Thus  passed  the  holidays,  and  Clarendon  began  to 
feel  that  he  must  return  to  his  studies.  Walton  was 
convalescing,  and  Gregory  was  preparing  to  exact  a 
promise  from  him,  that  he  would  not  leave  Woodland 
Bluff  till  the  physician  pronounced  him  in  a  condition 
to  return  to  his  studio. 


WALTON    AN    INVALID.  181 

"I  suppose  I  must  give  up  this  pleasant  life  again 
in  a  few  days,"  said  Gregory  to  his  sister,  as  he  showed 
her  the  last  plan  for  the  chapel,  which,  with  the  feeble 
help  of  Robert,  he  had  been  sketching ;  "  it  is  high  time 
I  was  back  to  my  work." 

At  the  mention  of  his  return,  the  sick  man  started, 
turned  pale,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  The 
movement  was  noticed  by  Honora,  and  with  instinctive 
delicacy  she  rose  and  left  the  room.  As  the  door  closed 
after  her,  Clarendon  stooped  over  his  friend  and  said, 
"  Why  this  sudden  grief,  Robert  ?  Is  it  because  I  must 
leave  you  ? " 

"  Sit  here,"  said  the  invalid,  pointing  to  a  seat  near 
by.  "  Clarendon,  I  am  weak,  very  weak ;  my  nerves 
are  in  a  wretched  state.  You  must  not  leave  me," 
he  added,  raising  his  eyes,  whose  lashes  were  wet  with 
tears.  u  You  see,  I  am  completely  unmanned.  You 
know  not  with  what  temptations  I  am  surrounded,  — 
what  I  have  dared  to  do." 

His  friend  took  the  thin  hand  in  his.  "  Robert,"  he 
said,  "  you  speak  hi  mysteries.  Tell  me  your  grief  more 
plainly.  Sickness  makes  women  of  us  all.  Be  sure 
of  my  sympathy." 


182  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  Your  sympathy,  Gregory  ?  You  know  not  what 
you  promise.  I  have  dared,  without  thought  of  the 
future,  without  thought  of  the  present,  —  I  have  allowed 
my  affections  to  wander,  to  fix  themselves  with  a  strength 
that,  in  my  condition,  is  irresistible,  upon  one  on  whom 
I  ought  never  to  have  looked  but  as  an  angel.  This 
was  why  I  so  strenuously  refused  to  return  here  with 
you.  I  knew  my  weakness,  but  allowed  my  better 
judgment  to  be  overcome,  and  placed  myself  in  the 
way  of  temptation.  Had  I  been  well,  Gregory,  you 
would  not  have  known  my  secret;  but  this  weakness 
here,"  he  added,  placing  his  hand  on  his  head,  "  ex- 
posed me.  With  you  by  me,  I  am  safe  ;  but  do  you 
think  I  could  meet  alone  that  gentle  tone,  that  quiet, 
heavenly  smile,  and  not  betray  myself  ?  " 

During  this  confession,  Clarendon's  lips  were  com- 
pressed painfully.  At  length  he  said  in  a  whisper, 
"  You  refer  to  my  sister  ?  " 

The  sick  man  replied,  "  Do  not  hate  me,  Clarendon ; 
the  secret  shall  remain  with  us ;  only  help  me  with 
this  struggle  till  1  am  strong  enough  to  go  away,  — 
away  forever." 

"  Robert,"  said  Clarendon,  gently,  "  why  should  I  be 


WALTON    AN    INVALID.  183 

angry  with  you  ?  I  am  grieving  for  a  result  I  might 
perhaps  have  prevented.  With  your  sensitive  nature 
and  ardent  admiration  for  the  loveliest  qualities  in  wo- 
man, and  your  entire  seclusion  for  several  years  from 
female  society,  by  ordinary  forethought  I  might  have 
foreseen  the  result.  Had  my  sister  a  heart  to  give, 
Robert,  there  is  no  one  among  my  friends  worthier 
of  her  than  yourself.  But  it  is  vain.  Her  heart  lies 
with  the  dead.  I  cannot  give  you  a  ray  of  hope." 
"  Hope  ! '"  replied  Walton  ;  "  I  never  dreamed  of  it 

'  It  were  all  one, 
That  I  should  love  a  bright  particular  star.' 

No,  Gregory,  your  sister  will  never  learn  my  love  from 
me ;  it  shall  go  down  to  the  grave  with  this  feeble 
body.  This  weakness  is  induced,  you  may  be  assured, 
by  physical  debility,  and  returning  health  will  give  me 
again  the  governing  and  controlling  power ;  only  that 
you  must  leave  me  —  " 

"  Say  no  more,  Robert.  I  will  stay  with  you  as  long 
as  you  plea?e  ;  but  I  am  grieved  for  you,  and  looking 
forward  to  the  thought  that  you  will  never  feel  that 
you  can  come  to  Woodland  again." 

"The  future  is  with  God,"  reph'ed  Walton. 


184  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

Mr.  Clement  came  in  at  this  moment,  and  with  the 
precious  offices  which  the  Church  provides  for  the 
sick  and  suffering,  raised  the  thoughts  of  the  invalid 
to  a  brighter  world,  and  calmed  his  troubled  spirit. 
Clarendon  watched  faithfully  by  his  bedside,  resisted 
all  calls  elsewhere,  and  strove  in  every  way  to  keep 
Houora  busied  about  household  and  parish  matters. 


CHAUNCEY  AND  CHARLOTTE.     185 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

CHAUNCEY  AND   CHARLOTTE. 

"  Lowliness  is  the  base  of  every  virtue, 
And  he  who  goes  the  lowest  builds  the  safest. 
My  God  keeps  all  pity  for  the  proud." 

FESTOS. 

TO  THE  inhabitants  of  Maple  Cliff,  during  the 
early  days  of  January,  came  a  change  so  sudden 
and  unexpected  as  to  startle  and  shock  the  household. 
Miss  Morgan  had  declined  a  pleasant  evening  at  Wood- 
land Bluff  with  Chauncey  and  Agatha,  and  was  sitting 
with  the  mistress  of  the  house,  who  was  growing  daily 
more  feeble,  and  had  reclined  for  hours  on  the  sofa 
without  apparently  noticing  anything.  Suddenly  Char- 
lotte felt  a  cold  hand  laid  on  her  shoulder,  and  a 
breath  came  upon  her  cheek.  Mrs.  Douglass  was  stoop- 
ing over  her.  "  Never  marry  a  Douglass ! "  she  whis- 
pered, in  a  husky  voice ;  "  I  warn  you  by  my  crushed 
heart,  never  link  your  fate  with  one  of  the  family." 


186  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

Charlotte  did  not  reply,  though  the  varying  color 
that  came  and  went,  like  flashes  of  lightning  in  a 
summer  sky,  told  that  she  understood.  After  a  mo- 
ment's hesitancy,  she  led  the  unfortunate  woman  to  the 
sofa  and  sat  down  by  her.  Mrs.  Douglass  smoothed 
the  hand  that  held  hers.  "You  have  been  kind  to  me," 
she  said,  speaking  timidly,  "and  I  want  to  tell  you  all 
about  — "  she  started — "about  the  past."  Assured  by 
Charlotte's  encouraging  manner,  as  she  said,  "You  may 
safely  tell  me  all,"  she  proceeded :  "  I  want  to  tell  you 
about  my  life.  I  was  born  in  Scotland,  and  had  one 
only  brother,  who  was  driven  from  home  by  my  stern 
father."  For  a  moment  she  was  lost ;  then,  speaking 
again,  she  said,  "Sister  Catherine  brought  me  to  Can- 
ada, the  House  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  after  they  died." 

"  After  the  death  of  your  parents  ? "  inquired  Char- 
lotte. 

"Yes,"  she  replied;  "till  I  saw  Mr.  Douglass  I  had 
a  pleasant  home  with  the  sisters :  but  I  married  him, 
because  I  was  afraid  to  say  no."  Here  she  again  fal- 
tered, but,  summoning  resolution,  she  proceeded :  "  My 
life  has  been  one  long,  long  night ;  day  dawned  when 
you  came ;  I  thank  God  for  it,"  she  said,  clasping  her 
hands  and  raising  her  streaming  eyes. 


CHAUNCEY  AND  CHARLOTTE.     187 

Charlotte,  fearful  of  the  effects  of  excitement,  changed 
the  subject,  by  asking  for  her  brother,  —  if  she  had 
ever  seen  him  since  he  left  home. 

"  Never ! "  she  said,  sadly.  "  He  was  a  proud  boy, 
and  made  his  own  way  in  the  world.  He  married  in 
England,  and  never  knew  —  for  there  was  no  one  to 
search  for  him  —  that  my  father  did  not  disinherit  him. 
Often,  often,  have  I  urged  Mr.  Douglass  to  seek  him, 
—  begged  him  to  make  an  effort  to  restore  my  brother 
his  own;  but  in  vain.  He  may  be  now  living  a  beg- 
gar, and  I  defrauding  him." 

The  deep  feelings  now  broke  forth  uncontrollably; 
her  eyes  grew  wild  and  fixed;  she  sunk  back  upon  the 
couch,  moaning  in  a  low,  melancholy  tone,  which  gradu- 
ally grew  fainter.  To  Miss  Morgan  there  seemed  some- 
thing deathlike  in  the  utter  exhaustion  that  followed  the 
meanings.  She  apprised  Chauncey  of  Mrs.  Douglass's 
condition  when  he  came  in;  he  rallied  her  on  her  pale 
face,  and  assured  her  his  aunt  would  be  well  in  the 
morning ;  but,  in  spite  of  his  entreaties  to  the  contrary, 
she  kept  vigil  herself.  The  cold  hours  of  the  night 
crept  along  drearily.  The  caution  of  Mrs.  Douglass 
was  ringing  hi  Charlotte's  ears.  Can  there  be  need  of 


188  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

this  warning?"  she  said  again  and  again  to  herself. 
"  Have  I  conducted  in  a  way  to  give  encouragement 
to  the  thought?" 

From  her  girlhood,  Miss  Morgan's  mind  had  been 
filled  with  present  duties.  She  had  never  given  the 
reins  to  her  imagination,  as  young  ladies  of  more  lei- 
sure and  less  self-control  might  have  done,  and  matri- 
mony had  scarce  entered  into  her  visions  of  the  future. 
Her  highest  ambition,  in  the  days  when  the  most  com- 
monplace dream,  was  to  exert  a  wide-spread  religious 
influence.  In  the  Romish  Church,  she  would  probably 
have  sought  a  convent,  where  she  might  have  become 
Lady  Superior. 

The  labors  of  Mrs.  Fry  and  Miss  Dix  excited  her 
warmest  admiration ;  but  to  her  no  such  path  opened, 
for  she  had  a  wise  dread  of  going  out  of  the  place  in 
which  God  had  placed  her.  Through  the  hours  of 
that  lonely  night,  life's  realities  and  life's  purpose 
came  pressing  upon  her.  As  the  first  ray  of  morning 
light  dawned,  she  observed  a  marked  change  in  the 
countenance  of  Mrs.  Douglass.  Slowly  the  eyes  turned 
to  her,  with  their  customary  sad  look.  "  Rodney,  I  for- 
give you  all,"  she  faintly  whispered,  —  "yes,  all,  even 
that,  —  even  that." 


CHAUNCEY  AND  CHARLOTTE.     189 

Charlotte  read  the  severe  struggle  that  followed,  and 
despatched  a  servant  to  Mr.  Douglass's  room ;  but  be- 
fore he  arrived,  the  freed  spirit  was  rejoicing  in  her 
freedom.  The  funeral  rites  were  over  at  Maple  Cliff, 
and  the  departed  was  scarce  missed,  except  by  Char- 
lotte, who  began  to  realize  the  peculiarity  of  her  posi- 
tion in  the  household.  With  this  realization  came  a 
change  in  her  manners  toward  Chauncey,  so  marked 
as  to  be  felt.  It  would  have  been  better  could  she 
have  continued  her  former  kind  ways  to  Mr.  Douglass ; 
but  this  with  her  was  an  impossibility.  The  cares  of 
the  household,  which  she  conscientiously  undertook,  cur- 
tailed her  walks  with  Honora,  and  brought  her  more 
intimately  in  contact  with  Chauncey,  but  she  avoided 
unnecessary  conversation  with  him,  and  answered  him 
in  monosyllables. 

It  happened  one  afternoon,  in  the  latter  part  of  Jan- 
uary, that  Gregory  Clarendon  and  his  sister  drove  up 
the  avenue  at  Maple  Cliff.  The  tempting  bed  of  snow 
had  brought  Agatha  and  her  brother  to  the  lawn, 
where  they  were  busily  engaged  building  a  snow  fort. 
The  child  sprung  forward  to  meet  the  sleigh. 

"We  are  come,"  said  Clarendon,  returning  her  warm 


190  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

greeting,  "to  persuade  Miss  Charlotte  to  ride.  She 
confines  herself  to  the  house  too  much.  I  expect  to 
leave  town  next  week,  if  Robert  continues  to  gain,  and 
this  may  be  my  last  chance." 

"If  you  can  persuade  her  to  go,"  said  Chauncey,  a 
little  piqued,  "  it  will  be  more  than  I  have  been  able 
to  do  for  the  last  fortnight.  All  my  lessons  on  air  and 
exercise  are  thrown  away  on  Miss  Morgan." 

"  Agatha  profits  by  them,"  replied  Clarendon,  looking 
with  admiration  upon  the  brilliant  glow  of  health  in 
the  little  one's  cheeks. 

Chauncey  soon  had  the  satisfaction  (for  it  must  be 
owned  it  was  a  satisfaction)  of  seeing  Gregory  return 
to  the  sleigh  without  Charlotte.  "  So  you  were  unsuc- 
cessful, like  myself  ?  "  he  said,  gayly. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Clarendon,  "  but  we  have  permission 
to  do  what  is  the  next  best  thing.  To  take  away  your 
playmate." 

"Oh!"  cried  Agatha,  "I  am  not  fit  to  go!"  point- 
ing to  her  red  hood  and  cloak.  "  They  will  take  me 
for  the  '  Scarlet  Lady ' !  " 

Clarendon  laughed  heartily,  assured  her  there  was 
no  danger  of  such  a  mistake,  as  that  lady  was  reprc- 


CHAUNCEY  AND  CHARLOTTE.     191 

sented  to  be  of  respectable  size.  "  Besides,"  he  added, 
as  he  lifted  her  into  the  sleigh,  "you  never  looked 
better  in  your  life." 

Here  was  a  time  for  which  Chauncey  had  sought : 
a  time  to  see  Charlotte  alone.  He  opened  the  library 
door  with  alacrity,  thinking  he  would  sit  there  and  col- 
lect his  thoughts  before  seeking  Miss  Morgan.  With 
delight  he  saw  Charlotte  on  the  topmost  of  the  library 
steps,  looking  for  a  missing  volume.  She  blushed 
deeply,  but  in  attempting  to  descend  hastily  her  dress 
caught  in  the  curtain-knob,  and  she  would  have  been 
precipitated  to  the  floor,  but  the  strong  arm  of  Chaun- 
cey intervened,  and  saved  her  from  what  might  have 
been  a  serious  injury.  She  thanked  him  coldly,  and 
would  have  passed  out,  but  he  stood  between  her  and 
the  door. 

"  Miss  Morgan,"  he  said,  his  voice  slightly  tremu- 
lous with  the  struggle  between  pride  and  affection, 
"we  have  heretofore  been  friends,  and,  as  such,  I 
would  ask  if  anything  in  my  conduct  has  caused  the 
great  change  in  your  manner  toward  me.  Instead  of 
the  freedom  of  a  friend  that  marked  our  earlier  inter- 
course, I  am  met  with  the  coldness  of  enmity.  The 


192  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

change  is  so  noticeable  as  to  excite  the  observation  of 
my  sister." 

Charlotte  felt  at  once  her  mistake.  Chauncey's 
kind  consideration  and  interest  might  have  been  the 
result  of  friendship,  and  she  saw  that  she  had  dwelt 
morbidly  on  the  subject,  and  on  the  warning  of  Mrs. 
Douglass.  It  would  be  strictly  true  to  say,  she  was 
thoroughly  ashamed  of  herself.  For  a  moment  she  re- 
mained silent,  being  too  truthful  to  gloss  over  her 
conduct ;  at  length  she  brought  herself  to  say,  "  Mr. 
Douglass,  if  I  have  done  wrong,  excuse  me.  You  have 
shown  yourself  friendly,  and  I  would  not  be  ungrate- 
ful." 

Her  nerves  were  weakened  by  care,  and,  over- 
come by  her  very  efforts  at  composure,  she  sunk  down 
into  the  nearest  seat.  A  show  of  tenderness  on  her 
part  was  all  that  Chauncey  needed ;  and  before  she 
could  recover  herself,  he  had  made  a  manly  declara- 
tion of  the  love  that  had  grown  up  in  his  heart,  —  his 
admiration  for  her  virtues,  and  his  trust  and  repose  in 
her  strength  of  character. 

"  Mr.  Douglass,"  she  said,  as  soon  as  she  could  com- 
mand herself,  at  the  same  time  withdrawing  coldly  the 


CHAUNCEY    AND    CHARLOTTE.  193 

hand  he  had  taken,  "say  no  more  on  this  subject.  We 
may  continue  friends ;  we  can  never  be  nearer." 

"  Do  not  say  never"  he  replied,  wrestling  with  the 
pride  that  was  sorely  wounded  by  her  coldness.  "  Give 
me  at  least  hope  that  time  and  a  better  acquaint- 
ance —  " 

"  Mr.  Douglass,"  she  said,  rising,  "  say  no  more ! 
This  declaration  cannot  but  render  my  position  here 
uncomfortable." 

Stung  by  the  haughtiness  of  her  reply,  and  disap- 
pointed by  her  utter  want  of  sympathy,  he  drew  him- 
self up  haughtily  as  she  passed,  and  replied,  "You 
need  fear  nothing,  Miss  Morgan !  you  shall  never  be 
troubled  by  me  again." 

Thus  parted  the  two,  —  Charlotte  not  quite  sure 
whether  she  had  done  right ;  Douglass  chafed  and 
Irritated  by  her  want  of  comprehension  of  the  depth 
of  his  feelings. 


194  THE     CHAPEL     OF     ST.     MARY 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

AGATHA'S    OUTBREAK. 

'•  Through  the  night, 

The  hoar-frost  gathered  o'er  each  leaf  and  spray, 
Weaving  its  filmy  net-work  thin  and  bright. 

Turf  and  tree, 

Pranked  with  delicate  embroidery; 
And  every  withered  stump  and  mossy  stone 
With  gems  incrusted  and  with  seed-pearls  sown." 

MRS.  WHITMAN. 

'T  is  not  her  talent  to  conceal  her  thought, 
And  carry  smiles  and  sunshine  in  her  face, 
When  discontent  sits  heavy  at  her  heart." 

ADDISON. 

UPPOSE  WE  drive  up  to  Chefs,"  said  Greg- 
ory,  as  he  dashed  through  the  village  with  his 
sister  and  Agatha.  "  I  hear  through  Mr.  Clement  that 
the  baby  there  is  quite  ill,  and  the  steep,  rough  path 
will  take  a  little  of  the  mettle  out  of  my  Bucepha- 
lus." 

The  winter  garments  of  the   Gorge  were  white  and 


AGATHA'S    OUTBREAK.  195 

glistening.  Every  rock  was  crystallized,  and  presented 
in  the  dancing  sunbeams  numberless  rainbows.  The 
last  fall  of  snow  had  been  light  and  fleecy,  and  hung 
like  a  pure  drapery  over  the  broad  hemlocks  that 
studded  the  rocks  and  crags. 

They  found  Rosa  in  deep  grief,  wringing  her  hands 
and  weeping  hopelessly.  Chet  walked  the  room  with 
the  babe,  soothing  its  moaning  with  a  low,  monotonous 
chant.  Honora  took  the  child  from  its  father,  and  the 
mother  came  and  knelt  by  her  side. 

"  Must  I  lose  her  ? "  she  exclaimed,  looking  piteously 
into  Honora's  face.  "  O  must  I  lose  her  ?  O  Miss 
Nora,  if  the  good  Lord  would  but  spare  her !  I  know 
I  have  loved  my  darling  Nellie  too  well.  O  Lord ! 
save  her ;  O  my  God !  spare  her,"  she  said,  throwing 
herself  prostrate  on  the  floor. 

Chet  came  forward  and  soothed  her  tenderly,  while 
Clarendon  offered  fervent  prayers  for  a  sick  child. 

"  I  shall  stay  with  Rosa  to-night,"  said  Honora,  as 
Gregory  indicated  it  was  time  to  return ;  "  please  drive 
down  for  me  in  the  morning." 

Honora  had  much  knowledge  of  the  ills  of  childhood. 
There  was  seldom  an  infant  ailing  among  the  poor, 


196  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

but  she  was  there  to  assist  or  advise.  Towards  morn- 
ing, as  she  held  the  suffering  child,  she  observed  a 
change  for  the  better.  Rosa  was  overwhelmed  with 
joy,  and  poured  out  her  thanks  to  Miss  Nora,  min- 
gled with  self-reproaches,  owning  in  the  end,  without 
a  question,  that  it  was  her  influence  that  had  prevented 
Chet  from  opening  his  house  to  the  sinning,  suffering 
Papsy,  and  adding  the  promise  that  it  should  be  so 
no  longer. 

***** 

When  Gregory  came  for  his  sister  in  the  morning, 
she  saw  at  once,  from  the  face  she  had  read  so  many 
years,  that  he  had  pleasant  news. 

"  What  is  it,  brother  ? "  she  said,  as  they  drove 
round  the  steep  bluff  that  separated  Chet's  castle  from 
the  main  road.  "I  know  you  have  something  nice  to 
tell  me." 

"  You  are  a  witch  or  a  clairvoyant,  Honora,  I  be- 
lieve," he  replied.  "  I  am  perfectly  aching  to  tell  you 
the  news.  You  know  how  anxious  I  have  been  that 
you  should  spend  some  time  in  the  city,  as  you  used 
to  do ;  your  nun-like  life  is  unfitting  you  for  the  world." 

"  Polite  to  your  elder  sister !  "  she  said,  playfully ; 
"  as  if  she  was  not  calculated  to  adorn  any  society." 


AGATHA'S    OUTBREAK.  197 

"  That  you  are,"  he  replied,  "  and  I  am  loath  you 
should  '  waste  your  sweetness  on  the  desert  air.'  " 

"I  think  our  friends  at  Woodland  and  Maple  Cliff 
would  be  much  obliged  by  your  insinuations.  But, 
seriously,  brother,  tell  me  what  it  is  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  are  to  go  to  New  York  in  two  weeks, 
with  father  and  me.  Father  had  a  letter  last  evening 
from  General  Winchester,  urging  his  attendance  on  a 
festive  meeting  of  military  officers.  As  his  early  friend, 
the  General  claims  him  for  his  guest,  and  you  of  course 
are  included.  The  remains  of  military  spirit  are  really 
roused.  Father  made  up  his  mind  at  once  to  go,  and 
I  know  you  will  not  be  left  behind." 

Honora  smiled  at  her  brother's  impetuosity.  "  You 
will  not  carry  me  off,  nolens  volens"  she  said ;  " and 
I  see  cogent  reasons  to  prevent.  In  the  first  place, 
Mr.  Walton  is  not  in  a  condition  to  travel ;  it  would 
be  almost  foolhardiness  for  him  to  take  a  journey  at 
this  inclement  season." 

"  We  have  settled  that,  Honora,"  replied  Gregory. 
"  Aunt  Martha  will  be  in  her  element  when  she  can 
have  Robert  to  herself,  and  he  will  serve  the  double 
purpose  of  company  and  employment.  You  may  be 


198  THE    CHAPEL    OF   ST.    MARY. 

sure,"  he  said  more  seriously,  "  this  arrangement  will 
relieve  Robert  of  a  load  that  now  presses  upon  him 
and  retards  his  recovery.  No  power  would  keep  him 
here  if  he  felt  he  prevented  the  journey.  Have  you 
other  cogent  reasons?" 

"  I  am  afraid,"  she  said,  laughing,  "  it  is  so  long  since 
I  have  been  into  the  beau  monde,  that  I  shall  mortify 
you  by  my  countrified  ways." 

"  I  will  not  allow  you,  Miss  Clarendon,  to  speak  thus 
of  my  sister,"  he  replied  gayly.  "  There  as  not  a  lady 
in  New  York  whose  manners  will  bear  the  scrutiny 
of  the  world  any  better  than  my  Honora's.  I  only 
wish  Isabelle  Winchester  may  take  pattern." 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  brother,  I  must  say,  one  great 
objection  I  have  to  this  plan  is  the  fear  that  Isabelle 
and  I  have  diverged  so  far  since  we  were  school-girls 
together  that  there  will  hardly  be  common  ground  to 
meet  upon." 

"  Never  fear,  sister.  I  can  assure  you  she  will  do 
the  conversation,  and  you  can  listen  to  the  account  of 
the  lovers  slain,  and  look  at  the  trophies  of  victories, 
and  say,  'Ah!  indeed!'  That  will  be  all  that  will 
be  required  of  you.  "  It  will  at  least  be  helping  you 


AGATHA'S    OUTBREAK.  199 

practise  self-denial.  I  only  wish  Agatha  could  be  in 
town  with  us ;  she  will  explode  or  turn  into  stone,  like 
all  the  inhabitants  of  Maple  Cliff.  I  met  Chauncey 
to-day,  and  he  was  positively  as  tall  and  cold  as  an 
iceberg.  They  are  worse  than  ever  there,  since  Mrs. 
Douglass's  death." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Honora,  hesitatingly  ;  "  Charlotte  has 
trouble  on  her  mind,  of  which  she  does  not  like  to 
speak.  Her  position  there  is  a  trying  one." 

"  How  you  women  see  ahead,"  replied  Clarendon, 
laughing  heartily.  "  It  is  as  clear  as  daylight !  Chaun- 
cey Douglass  has  made  a  fool  of  himself,  by  making 
love  to  Charlotte  Morgan,  —  he  had  the  look  of  a  re- 
fused lover  this  morning,  —  and  Mademoiselle  is  dying 
of  dignified  indignation.  The  worst  feature  of  the  case 
is,  that  nobody  can  sympathize  with  them.  It  is  pitia- 
ble," he  added,  with  another  hearty  laugh. 

"  You  seem  to  feel  deeply  for  them,"  said  Honora, 
smiling.  "I  hope  you  may  profit  by  their  example." 

"Trust  me  for  that,"  he  replied,  as  he  alighted  at 
the  door  of  his  home. 

It  was  decided  during  the  day  that  Honora  should 
accompany  her  father  and  brother  to  the  city  the  next 


200  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

week,  and  the  news  was  declared  to  Charlotte  and  Aga- 
tha, who  came  over  for  the  evening.  Agatha  heard  the 
intelligence  with  vexation,  disappointment,  and  dismay. 
To  lose  Gregory's  society  was  hard,  but  to  part  with 
Honora  and  Colonel  Clarendon  also,  she  could  not. 
In  vain  Mr.  Walton  promised  to  give  her  lessons  in 
painting  in  oils,  and  Aunt  Martha  offered  to  initiate 
her  into  the  mysteries  of  cake-making.  The  burst  of 
passionate  weeping  was  violent,  and  continued  so  long, 
in  spite  of  the  soothing  efforts  of  her  friends,  that 
Charlotte  severely  and  cuttingly  reproved  her  for  her 
want  of  self-control.  Then  followed  a  scene  that  Miss 
Morgan  might  well  regret  to  have  produced.  Agatha's 
fine  eyes,  from  whose  depths  in  repose  came  the 
reflection  of  a  loving  heart,  flashed  and  sparkled  with 
intensity  of  passion.  The  paleness  of  death  spread 
over  her  countenance,  and  from  her  lips  burst  keen 
and  bitter  reproaches,  for  want  of  sympathy,  coldness, 
and  even  unkindness.  It  was  evidently  the  outgushing 
of  a  stream  long  restrained.  Her  slender  figure  was 
drawn  up  to  its  full  height,  her  head  thrown  back,  and 
her  little  foot  planted  firmly  forward.  The  family  were 
taken  by  surprise.  Walton  looked  wonderingly  at  the 


AGATHA'S    OUTBREAK.  201 

cliild  from  out  his  sorrowful  eyes.  In  the  height  of 
the  paroxysm,  as  Agatha  spoke  of  the  "  intolerable 
assumption"  of  her  teacher,  the  door  opened,  and 
young  Clarendon  appeared.  He  did  not  speak,  but 
his  look  caused  her  to  pause  in  the  midst  of  her  de- 
nunciations. Pride  forbade  her  to  sink  into  her  seat 
and  hide  her  head,  and  she  walked  haughtily  from 
the  room. 

"  I  am  disappointed,  sadly  disappointed,"  said  Honora, 
after  she  had  gone  out. 

"  I  am  not,"  replied  Gregory ;  "  I  have  been  expect- 
ing something  of  this  kind,  but  did  not  look  for  any- 
thing quite  so  savage." 

« If  I  had  been  told  of  this,"  remarked  Walton,  in 
a  grieved  tone,  "  I  should  have  said  it  must  be  an  over- 
drawn picture." 

"  The  bow  is  bent  too  far,"  said  Colonel  Clarendon. 
"  The  child  wants  companionship  and  recreation.  She 
will  grow  up  a  warped  character,  —  proud,  tempestuous." 

"  I  think  not,  father,"  said  Gregory  deferentially. 
"  There  is  too  strong  an  effort  for  the  right,  and  too 
many  pious  hearts  interested,  to  fear  an  utter  failure." 

When  Gregory  appeared  to  attend  Miss  Morgan  to 
9* 


202  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

her  home,  the  little  girl  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 
He  followed  Charlotte  into  the  drawing-room  at  ^la- 
pie  Cliff,  meaning  to  speak  with  her  plainly  of  some 
defects  in  her  management  of  the  child.  They  were 
both  surprised  to  find  Agatha  curled  up  hi  the  bay 
window,  where  she  had  evidently  wept  herself  to 
sleep.  Her  bosom,  even  then,  heaved  with  an  occa- 
sional sob.  It  was  a  favorable  moment  for  Gregory. 

"  Charlotte,"  he  said,  looking  up  into  her  sorrowful 
face,  "love  this  child.  Deal  gently  with  her,  very 
gently.  You  may  help  her  to  be  a  lovely,  winning 
character,  or  you  may  leave  her  a  haugbty,  wilful  wo- 
man. An  indifferent  person  she  can  never  be,  and 
with  you  in  a  great  measure  rests  the  result." 

He  spoke  strongly,  and  his  words  had  their  effect. 
Charlotte  had  great  confidence  in  his  judgment  and  good 
sense;  and  when  he  added,  "For  this  night's  fail- 
ings, give  her  unwonted  tenderness  and  kindness,"  she 
seemed  to  gain  a  glimpse  of  the  secret  of  Gregory's 
influence. 

Agatha  awoke  from  her  disturbed  slumber,  and  the 
pressure  of  her  hand  in  Gregory's  caused  her  to  start ; 
but  he  said  very  gently,  "  Agatha,  my  child." 


AGATHA'S    OUTBREAK.  203 

She  opened  her  eyes  in  astonishment,  and,  raising  her- 
self from  her  recumbent  position,  stood  by  Gregory's  side 
resting  her  head  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Can  you  love  me  after  to-night,  Cousin  Gregory  ?  " 
she  said  sorrowfully. 

"More  than  ever,"  he  replied  tenderly,  "for  though 
we  fall,  we  shall  not  be  utterly  cast  away.  You  will 
yet  obtain  that  for  which  you  are  striving,  —  self-control 
and  submission.  To-night  you  were  taken  unawares, 
suffering  with  the  thoughts  of  parting  from  us  all ;  and 
reproof  at  such  a  time  came  like  irritation  upon  an 
open  wound.  This  palliates,  though  it  does  not  excuse 
your  fault.  The  penitence  you  now  feel  is  a  promise 
for  the  future." 

He  then  spoke  of  that  future,  with  its  high  hopes 
and  responsibilities,  making  even  the  unpleasant  duty 
of  apologizing  to  her  teacher  (upon  which  he  insisted) 
less  repulsive  by  his  sympathy. 


204  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

THE  ARTIST'S  STORY. 

"  New  Eves  in  all  her  daughters  came, 
As  strong  to  charm,  as  weak  to  err, 
As  sure  of  man  through  praise  and  blame, 
Whate'er  they  brought  him,  Pride  or  Shame, 
Their  still  unwearied  worshipper." 

MOORE. 

"  It  is  a  quiet  picture  of  delight 
Your  humble  cottage  hiding  from  the  sun, 
In  the  thick  woods.     Crowding  leaves 
Of  glistening  green  and  clustering  bright  flowers 
Of  purple 
Woo  the  gentle  eye  and  delicate  touch." 

SIMMS. 

/COLONEL  CLARENDON  and  daughter  were 
\J  hospitably  entertained  in  the  superb  mansion  of 
his  early  friend,  General  Winchester.  All  the  appoint- 
ments of  the  place  were  on  a  scale  of  magnificence, 
•which  to  Honora,  with  her  simple  tastes,  savored  of 
ostentation.  Many  of  Gregory's  evenings,  of  course, 


THE    ABTIST'S    STORY.  205 

were  given  to  the  pleasure  of  his  father's  and  sister's 
society. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Isabelle  ? "  he  said  to  Ho- 
nora, the  first  opportunity.  "  Peerless,  is  n't  she  ?  " 

"  She  is,"  replied  Honora,  "  the  personification  of  my 
idea  of  the  women  in  the  Arabian  Nights." 

"  Oriental"  said  Gregory.  "  That  expresses  it  ex- 
actly." 

"  But  she  is  fascinating  and  bewitching,"  said  Ho- 
nora, "  as  well  as  beautiful.  My  sober  senses  are 
sometimes  bewildered,  and  even  father  is  among  her 
worshippers." 

"  I  can't  understand  it,"  replied  Gregory.  "  To  me 
she  appears  an  arrant  coquette,  than  which  there  is  no 
more  despicable  character  among  women." 

"  You  are  so  warm  in  the  matter,"  said  Honora, 
laughing,  "  that  I  shall  look  to  see  you  among  her 
train  of  followers  before  spring." 

"  And  hung  up  like  the  rest  of  them,"  replied  Greg- 
ory, "as  little  Bo-Peep  hung  up  the  remains  of  her 
lost  sheep." 

Honora  thought  her  brother  severe  in  his  judgment 
of  Isabelle  Winchester.  She  knew  there  must  be  mo- 


206  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

ments  when  the  fashionable  lady  tired  of  all  this  adu- 
lation; moments  in  which  her  better  nature  craved 
something  more  substantial.  But,  surrounded  as  she 
was,  at  home  and  abroad,  with  admiration,  the  idol  of 
her  fond  father,  the  pride  of  her  twin  brothers,  with 
every  wish  gratified,  and  none  to  remind  her  that 

"  Life  is  real,  life  is  earnest," 
what  could  be  expected  of  poor  human  nature  ? 

General  Winchester's  family  were  well-bred,  but 
Honora  had  occasional  hints  about  being  "  righteous 
overmuch,"  because  she  was  constant  at  church,  ex- 
pressed her  disapprobation  (when  questioned)  of  many 
fashionable  amusements,  and  visited  the  poor  with  her 
brother. 

Honora  had  become  deeply  interested  in  the  English 
family  of  whom  Gregory  had  written,  and  was  as  ear- 
nest as  he  that  they  should  be  removed  to  a  more 
fitting  home  than  the  dark  alley  they  now  inhabited, 
and  suggested  the  Bird's  Nest,  reminding  Gregory  that 
the  daughters  could  support  themselves  and  father  by 
designing  for  the  large  mills  at  Eidgeville,  —  a  talent 
which  Honora  discovered  in  the  elder  sister,  after  two 
or  three  interviews. 


THE    ARTIST'S    STORY.  207 

Miss  Clarendon's  sombre  dress  excused  her  from  all 
but  family  parties,  as  are  called  gatherings  of  one's 
"  dear  five  hundred  friends,"  and  she  found  leisure  for 
long  letters  to  Charlotte  and  Agatha.  By  the  advice 
of  her  friend,  given  in  parting,  Charlotte  had  striven 
to  return  to  her  old  land  manner  with  Chauncey  Doug- 
lass. He  was  one  of  the  proudest  of  his  kind ;  the 
wound  she  had  made  had  been  a  deep  one,  and  he  met 
all  her  efforts  to  be  on  comfortable  terms  with  a  cool 
indifference  that  reminded  her  so  strongly  of  his  uncle 
as  to  make  her  look  back  and  shudder. 

In  the  mean  time  Agatha  had  become  a  pet  with 
Mr.  Walton.  She  came  to  him  daily  for  instructions 
in  painting.  In  looking  over  his  pictures  one  after- 
noon, for  a  suitable  subject  for  her  next  lesson,  Agatha 
selected  one  of  a  pretty  English  cottage,  embowered  in 
trees  and  vines.  There  was  nothing  striking  about  the 
picture,  except  the  exquisite  lights  and  shadows,  that 
gave  to  the  landscape  a  beauty  such  as  comes  after  a 
summer  shower,  when  the  sun  shines  forth  from  the 
bosom  of  the  scattering  clouds,  into  the  heart  of  every 
leaf  and  spire  of  grass,  making  rainbows  in  the  spark- 
ling drops. 


208  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  O,  this  is  a  dear  love ! "  exclaimed  Agatha.  "  I 
will  take  this." 

"  That !  Oh ! "  he  said  in  a  voice  of  agony.  Re- 
covering himself  however  in  a  moment,  he  added  in 
a  low  tone,  "  You  may  take  it,  my  child,  and,  if  I  can 
nerve  myself  to  it,  I  will  give  you  its  history.  That 
is  a  picture  of  my  early  home,  my  English  home,  which 
I  left  when  but  a  few  years  older  than  yourself."  Aga- 
tha's eyes  looked  sympathy,  and  he  proceeded.  "  I 
have  never  told  any  one  of  my  home,  and  I  tell  you 
now,  that  you  may  see  to  what  uncontrolled  self-will 
may  lead.  I  was  an  only  son,  wayward  and  wilful, 
longing  continually  for  freedom  from  restraint,  unwill- 
ing to  submit  to  rightful  authority.  I  left  the  gentle 
influences,  the  mild  government  of  the  household,  and 
enlisted  in  the  army."  His  voice  grew  faint,  and  he 
spoke  with  difficulty. 

"  Mr.  Walton,"  said  Agatha,  observing  his  deep 
emotion,  "  I  am  afraid  you  will  be  ill  again,  if  you 
try  to  tell  me  what  causes  you  so  much  grief." 

"Agatha,"  he  replied,  "I  have  never  known  one 
unclouded  day  since  my  final  act  of  rebellion.  The 
excitement  of  life,  even  a  soldier's  life,  could  never 


THE    ARTIST'S    STORY.  209 

drown  the  voice  of  conscience.  I  enlisted,  as  I  have 
said,  and  left  my  parents  and  sisters  forever." 

Agatha  looked  up,  horror  and  amazement  pictured 
on  her  countenance.  "  Did  you  never  go  back  ? "  she 
said  earnestly. 

"  The  regiment  I  joined,"  he  replied,  "  sailed  at  once 
for  India.  My  health  was  much  broken  by  the  cli- 
mate, and  more  than  all,  distressed  as  I  was,  pride 
would  not  suffer  me  to  write  even  to  my  mother.  I 
flattered  myself  I  would  return  and  astonish  them  all 
by  my  knowledge  of  the  world.  After  an  absence  of 
eight  years  my  feet  trod  again  my  native  soil.  In 
Liverpool  I  learned  from  an  acquaintance  the  dread- 
ful truth,  that  my  mother  had  died  soon  after  I  left, 
and  my  father,  broken  by  grief  and  loss  of  property, 
had  sailed  two  or  three  years  before  my  arrival  for 
America.  I  had  no  relatives  on  either  side  that  I  had 
ever  known,  and  I  desperately  resolved  to  follow  my 
father  and  sisters,  not  with  the  hope  of  finding  them,  but 
with  that  restless  desire  to  do  something  that  haunts  the 
soul  tilled  with  remorse.  I  thank  God,"  he  added  with 
deep  emotion,  "  that  the  very  depth  of  my  loneliness 
led  me  to  seek  shelter  in  my  Heavenly  Father's  house." 

N 


210  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"And  you  have  never  known  any  more  of  your 
friends?"  said  Agatha,  wiping  her  eyes.  "How  very 
sad ! " 

"  No,"  he  replied ;  "  my  life  for  the  last  six  years 
has  been  a  struggle  for  a  subsistence,  which  I  have 
obtained  by  a  talent  inherited  from  the  mother  whose 
heart  I  broke." 

"  It  seems,"  said  his  companion,  rising,  and  walking 
uneasily  about  the  room,  "  as  if  I  could  not  wait.  0 
if  I  had  money,  and  was  a  few  years  older,  I  would 
search  every  nook  in  America,  till  I  found  your  friends." 

"  That  would  be  the  labor  of  more  than  one  life- 
time," he  said,  smiling  faintly.  "  America  is  a  wide 
place,  and  my  friends  are  poor  and  unknown. 

This  long  and  exciting  conversation  brought  a  re- 
newed attack  of  fever  to  Mr.  Walton,  and  to  the  child 
it  gave  food  for  thought  and  fancy,  and  plans  for  many 
a  long  winter  evening. 


THE    FERGUSONS.  211 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

THE  FERGUSONS. 

"  We  have  our  younger  brothers  too, 
The  poor,  the  outcast,  and  the  trodden  down. 
They  are  a  hungered  for  our  love  and  care; 
It  is  their  spirits  that  are  famishing; 
And  our  dear  Father  in  his  Testament 
Bequeathed  them  to  us  as  our  dearest  trust." 

0  UNCLE,  I  am  glad  to  see  you ! "  cried  Aga- 
tha, as  she  sprung  down  the  slippery  steps  at 
Maple  Cliff,  one  cold  morning  in  February,  and  em- 
braced Mr.  Douglass.  He  kissed  her  with  unusual 
warmth.  Charlotte  noticed  a  painful  contraction  of  the 
brow  when  he  entered  the  drawing-room,  and  a  care- 
ful avoidance  of  the  chair  and  corner  Mrs.  Douglass 
formerly  occupied ;  but  this  was  all  the  notice  he  took 
of  a  vacancy  he  must  have  felt.  Foreign  travel  and 
society  had  worn  off  some  of  the  rough  edges  of  his 
character,  and  he  was  perhaps  more  than  ever  a  man 
of  the  world. 


212  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.  MARY. 

Charlotte  observed  him  frequently  look  at  her  with 
a  scrutinizing  glance,  and  back  again  to  his  nephew. 
The  truth  was,  in  the  close  of  a  business  letter  from 
Tom  Ridgway,  a  bit  of  scandal  was  inserted,  that  had 
hastened  the  master's  return.  "Rumor  says,  that  the 
heads  of  the  family  at  Maple  Cliff  will  erelong  be 
the  united  head"  Inquiring  of  Clarendon,  in  New 
York,  as  to  the  truth  of  this  report,  Gregory,  enjoying 
his  evident  dissatisfaction  with  something  that  was 
really  none  of  his  business,  had  told  Mr.  Douglass, 
that  "  stranger  things  than  that  had  happened,"  and 
the  next  day  found  him  (wholly  unexpected)  at  his 
own  home. 

To  frustrate  at  once  all  plans  of  this  kind,  he  an- 
nounced his  intention,  the  next  morning  at  breakfast, 
of  taking  Agatha  to  New  York  with  him  for  a  few 
weeks,  and  his  desire  that  Miss  Morgan  should  accom- 
pany them. 

Agatha's  joy  was  boundless.  To  go  to  New  York, 
which,  to  her  youthful  imagination,  embraced  the  best 
part  of  the  world,  —  of  her  own  land,  at  least.  She 
could  not  sleep  till  she  had  despatched  a  letter  to  Ho- 
nora  and  Gregory,  communicating  her  joy. 


THE   FERGUSONS.  213 

"  I  am  sorry  she  is  coming  here  just  now,"  said 
Honora,  as  she  closed  the  letter,  "  much  as  I  should 
really  love  to  see  her." 

"  The  fresh,  youthful  speeches  will  be  refreshing 
after  so  much  flummery,"  replied  Gregory ;  "  but  I 
dread  this  atmosphere  for  her  excitable  temperament 
and  unsettled  state  of  mind." 

"  Yes,"  said  Honora,  sadly ;  "  I  hoped  she  would 
think  of  Baptism  and  Confirmation  at  Easter,  and  a 
sojourn  here  will  surely  drive  all  these  thoughts  from 
her  mind ;  her  love  of  the  bright  and  beautiful  will 
give  an  influence  to  Isabelle  that  may  be  hurtful." 

"  I  shall  fear  more,"  replied  Clarendon,  "  the  effect  of 
going  about  from  one  scene  of  amusement  to  another, 
as  she  will ;  for  Mr.  Douglass  will  live  upon  excite- 
ment, I  fancy.  But  we  will  keep  her  with  us  as 
much  as  possible,"  he  added,  thoughtfully. 

The  brother  and  sister  had  gone  out  during  the  con- 
versation, and  had  reached  the  narrow  alley  which  con- 
tained the  home  of  the  Fergusons,  the  English  family 
before  mentioned.  The  passage  was  dark,  and  they 
were  obliged  to  go  slowly  up  the  rickety  stairway. 
Sounds  of  swearing  men,  scolding  women,  and  crying 
babies  resounded  from  every  side. 


214  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  The  Bird's  Nest  would  be  free  from  these  annoy- 
ances," whispered  Gregory,  as  Honora  clung  more 
closely  to  his  arm. 

As  he  spoke,  a  man  dressed  in  dirty  finery  at- 
tempted to  push  himself  between  them.  They  paused 
to  let  him  pass,  and  he  suddenly  turned  and  rapidly 
ascended  the  fourth  flight  of  stairs.  Honora  was  too 
essentially  frightened  to  speak,  but  she  knew  at  once 
that  she  had  seen  that  face  and  figure  before,  disguised 
as  they  both  were. 

The  surroundings  of  the  suffering  family  were  mea- 
gre, but  the  faultless  cleanliness  of  every  article  in  their 
one  apartment,  and  the  neat  and  ingenious  devices  to 
give  the  room  an  air  of  comfort,  were  to  Honora  an 
ever-new  delight.  The  proposed  removal  had  been 
suggested  to  the  family,  and  matters  were  in  a  train  for 
maturing  the  plan  as  soon  as  spring  opened.  The 
prospect  had  infused  new  life  into  the  daughters. 
Catherine,  the  elder,  was  a  girl  of  plain,  straightfor- 
ward common-sense,  well  fitted  for  the  life  she  had 
been  called  to  lead  since  her  womanhood.  Stella,  the 
younger,  was  a  fairy-like,  gentle  being,  of  sixteen  sum- 
mers, with  eyes  that  seemed  to  have  gathered  color 


THE    FERGUSONS.  215 

from  the  violet,  and  expression  from  a  soul  thoughtful 
beyond  her  years. 

The  aged  father  was  a  gentleman  in  his  appear- 
ance and  manners,  though  clothed  in  garments  that 
would  not  have  been  presentable  on  Fifth  Avenue. 
His  hair  and  beard,  silvered  with  age,  hung  in  a  luxu- 
riance quite  remarkable  over  his  shoulders  and  breast. 
This,  with  his  broad  forehead  and  Roman  nose,  gave 
him  a  look  strikingly  patriarchal.  After  conversation 
about  their  removal,  &c.,  Gregory  inquired  if  they  were 
not  annoyed  by  the  noise  of  the  house. 

"  Not  so  much  by  their  noise,"  replied  the  father, 
"as  by  the  insolence  of  some  of  them.  We  are  obliged 
to  keep  our  doors  closely  barred ;  and  I  believe  Katy 
has  other  means  of  keeping  them  at  bay,"  he  said, 
pointing  to  the  wall.  They  looked  in  the  direction 
which  he  indicated,  and  saw  two  pistols  protruding 
from  their  holsters. 

"Yes,"  said  Catherine,  calmly,  as  Honora  turned  to- 
ward her  with  surprise ;  "  I  do  not  keep  them  to  look 
at;  I  am  prepared  to  use  them  if  we  are  beset  as  we 
have  sometimes  been." 

She  then  conversed  aside  with   Honora,  telling  her 


216  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

of  a  notorious  villain  who  had  dogged  the  steps  of  her 
sister  till  she  was  afraid  to  trust  her  out  alone.  Ho- 
nora's  heart  sunk  within  her  as  she  heard  of  the 
snares  and  pitfalls  that  beset  the  path  of  the  poor. 

"  Gregory,"  she  said,  as  they  emerged  from  the  dai'k 
alley  into  the  open  street,  "did  you  know  that  wicked- 
looking  man  we  met  in  the  passage,  both  going  and 
coming  ?  " 

"  Know  him  !  "  exclaimed  her  brother.  "  I  did  not 
dare  even  look  at  him,  lest  I  should  be  tempted  to 
knock  him  down  for  his  insolence,  and  thus  risk  your 
life  as  well  as  my  own." 

"  I  am  sure  it  was  Richard  Walbridge,"  she  said  in 
a  low.  decided  tone.  "  It  is  dreadful  to  leave  these 
people  —  these  girls  • —  in  such  a  neighborhood." 

"The  wretch!"  muttered  Gregory.  "We  must  work 
quickly  if  we  would  not  be  outwitted  by  this  scoundrel. 
I  will  leave  you  at  General  "Winchester's  door,  and 
write  at  once  to  Mr.  Clement  and  Tom  Ridgway  to 
settle  this  matter*  of  the  Bird's  Nest.  One  can  hardly 
sleep  quietly,  knowing  that  these  unprotected  girls  are 
in  danger." 


ISABELLE    WINCHESTER.  217 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

ISABELLE   WINCHESTER. 

"  She  who  only  finds  her  self-esteem 
In  others'  admiration,  begs  an  alms, 
Depends  on  others  for  her  daily  food, 
And  is  the  very  servant  of  her  slaves." 

JOANUA  BAILLIE. 

"  0,  life,  how  pleasant  is  thy  morning! 
Young  Fancy's  rays  the  hills  adorning, 
Cold,  pausing  Caution's  lesson  scorning, 
We  frisk  away. 

We  wander  here,  we  wander  there, 
We  eye  the  Rose  upon  the  Brier, 
Unmindful  that  the  Thorn  is  near 

Among  the  leaves." 

BURNS. 

HOXORA  HAD  gone  to  her  room  after  her  walk, 
and  was  preparing  to  dress  for  dinner,  when   a 
light  tap  was  heard  at  her  door,  and  Isabelle  Winches- 
ter answered  the  summons,  "  Come  in."     She  was  still 
in    her    morning   dishahille,   and    sunk    languidly  down 
10 


218  THE    CHAPEL     OF    ST.    MARY. 

into  the  fauteuil.  "  So  your  brother  would  not  stay  for 
dinner,"  she  said,  in  an  indifferent  tone.  "He  is  very 
chary  of  his  company.  Is  he  afraid  of  me  ? "  she  in- 
quired, looking  archly  out  of  the  corners  of  her  be- 
witching eyes. 

"I  have  never  heard  him  express  such  a  fear,"  re- 
plied Honora,  with  a  smile.  "Nevertheless,  it  would 
not  be  surprising  if  he  were,  considering  the  numerous 
victims." 

"Pshaw!"  said  Isabelle,  impatiently;  "I'm  tired  to 
death  of  them ! "  She  placed  her  small  hands  over 
her  face,  and  rested  her  head. 

"Are  you  tired  of  all  of  them?"  said  Honora,  gayly 
"  Is  there  no  preference  ?  " 

"Yes,  every  mother's  son  of  them,"  replied  the  pet- 
ted girl.  "It  is'nt  I,  Isabelle  "Winchester,  they  care 
for.  There  is  not  one  of  them  who  would  not  turn 
and  worship  the  first  handsome  face  belonging  to  the 
only  daughter  of  a  wealthy  gentleman  ! " 

"  Isabelle,"  said  Honora,  sitting  down  by  her  com- 
panion and  smoothing  her  black  tresses,  "is  there 
after  all*  nothing  satisfying  in  all  this  admiration  ?  " 

Isabelle  shook  her  head.     "Nothing,"  she  said,  laugh- 


ISABELLE    WINCHESTER.  219 

ing  faintly;  "and  yet,  I  suppose  I  should  be  wretched 
without  it.  'Just  as  the  twig  is  bent,'  you  know.  But 
I  am  really  disappointed  Mr.  Clarendon  did  not  stay  for 
dinner.  That  stupid  Count  Morier  is  to  be  here,  and 
I  wanted  Gregory  as  a  sort  of  foil." 

Honora  looked  disappointed.  She  had  hoped  that 
Isabelle  was  really  dissatisfied  with  the  thoroughly 
worldly  life  she  was  leading,  so  contrary  to  her  early 
professions,  and  was  longing  for  something  better.  Is- 
abelle saw  the  change  in  her  countenance. 

"Now,  please  don't  look  so  grave,"  she  said,  coax- 
ingly ;  "  I  know  I  'm  a  dreadful  sinner,  and  I  suppose 
that  is  the  reason  why  your  brother  dislikes  me  so 
heartily;  but  I  can't  act  the  hypocrite,  even  for  him," 
she  said,  proudly. 

"  Has  he  told  you  he  dislikes  you  ? "  said  Honora, 
smiling. 

"I  can  tell,"  replied  Isabelle,  shaking  her  head  in- 
credulously. "  Ah,  here  comes  my  maid  ! " 

Celinda  entered,  and  gave  her  mistress  a  card  ac- 
companied with  a  bouquet  of  choice  flowers. 

"  Engaged,"  said  the  imperious  beauty,  haughtily,  as 
she  looked  at  the  card.  "  Touching  and  tender,"  she 


220  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

added,  sarcastically,  as  she  took  a  slip  of  paper  from 
among  the  flowers,  and  read  the  sentiment.  "  The 
poor  fellow  must  be  really  demented !  But  I  will  in- 
troduce you,"  she  said,  passing  the  card  to  Honora. 

"  Pierre  McLellan  ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Clarendon. 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  said  Isabelle. 

"  Not  personally,"  she  replied ;  "  but  brother  roomed 
with  him  in  college,  and  was  much  interested  in  him." 

"  An  associate  of  Mr.  Clarendon's ! "  said  Isabelle, 
with  surprise.  "I  suppose,  then,  he  was  a  fine  fellow; 
he  was  indeed,  when  I  made  his  acquaintance  in  New 
Orleans,  more  than  a  year  since.  But,  O,  his  infatua- 
tion about  me,  it  was  really  ludicrous !  He  has  run 
down  since  then,  till  he  has  run  out  his  fortune,  and 
of  course  his  friends.  It  is  reported  that  he  has  gam- 
bled indefinitely." 

"Poor  young  man!"  said  Honora,  with  a  sigh.  "His 
course  downward  must  have  been  a  rapid  one,  for  it  is 
but  little  more  than  a  year  since  Gregory  knew  him, 
and  he  could  hardly  have  been  in  any  way  of  dissipa- 
tion then." 

She  looked  at  her  watch,  and  her  companion,  yawn- 
ing, said,  "  Well,  I  suppose  I  must  dress  for  dinner." 


ISABELLE    WINCHESTER.  221 

The  next  week  Mr.  Douglass  arrived  with  his  niece 
at  the  Astor  House.  Miss  Morgan  had  considered  the 
subject,  reflected  upon  her  position  in  the  city,  at  a 
public  house,  as  governess,  under  Mr.  Douglass's  pro- 
tection, and  felt  that  she  might  take  this  opportunity 
to  visit  an  aged  aunt,  her  only  surviving  relative,  living 
among  the  Green  Mountains.  Her  aunt  was  miserly, 
ill-tempered,  and  in  feeble  health,  and  Charlotte  knew 
that,  in  preferring  her  society,  she  was  not  "pleasure- 
seeking."  Mr.  Douglass  was  angry  at  her  decision, 
and  secretly  mistrusted  her  reasons  for  this  course ;  but 
he  was  too  proud  to  urge  the  matter,  and  Agatha  and 
her  teacher  were  separated. 

Mr.  Douglass  had  not  been  a  week  in  town,  before 
the  imperious  Isabelle,  charmed  with  the  little  country 
girl,  as  she  called  Agatha,  insisted  that  a  hotel  was  no 
place  for  such  a  child,  and  brought  her  to  her  father's 
house.  This  change  did  not  entirely  please  Gregory  or 
Honora.  The  admiration  of  Isabelle  and  her  brothers, 
and  their  exertions  to  entertain  their  new  guest,  left 
the  child  no  time  for  quiet,  rational  thought.  Gregory 
in-i-tnl  upon  taking  Agatha  with  him  in  his  visits  to 
the  poor,  and  these  were  the  only  times  he  could 


222  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

meet  her  out  of  a  room  filled  with  gay,  worldly  peo- 
pie. 

The  intelligence  came,  that  all  was  ready  for  the  re- 
moval of  the  Fergusons  to  the  Bird's  Nest,  and  Clar- 
endon called  to  take  Agatha  and  Honora  with  him  to 
communicate  the  glad  news  to  the  waiting  household. 
He  found  Isabelle  and  her  brothers  with  Honora  and 
Agatha,  deeply  engaged  in  an  interesting  discussion. 
The  moment  he  took  a  seat,  the  child  came  and  rested 
her  flushed  face  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Perhaps  we  should  do  well  to  consult  my  brother," 
said  Honora,  gravely. 

"O,  of  course  he  will  agree  with  you,"  replied  Isa- 
belle, gayly.  "  An  incipient  minister  too !  He  could 
hardly  do  otherwise." 

"I  think,"  said  Duncan  Winchester,  looking  at  Aga- 
tha with  interest,  "  Miss  Douglass  is  fully  competent 
to  decide  for  herself." 

The  blush  deepened  on  Agatha's  cheek. 

"What  is  it?"  said  Gregory,  looking  at  her  flushed 
face. 

"  Only  that  we  are  urgent,"  replied  Isabelle,  "  that 
Agatha  should  go  to  Madame  Dolan's  fancy  ball.  It 


ISABELLE    WINCHESTER.  223 

•will  be  a  quiet  affair,  and  she  will  have  me  for  u 
chaperone,  and  my  brothers  for  protectors." 

"I  think,"  replied  Honora,  modestly,  "that,  if  there 
were  no  other  objections,  she  is  too  young  for  such 
amusements." 

"  Even  if  it  were  not  the  season  of  Lent,"  added 
Gregory,  slowly,  at  the  same  time  looking  fixedly  into 
Agatha's  eyes. 

"  Surely,  Mr.  Clarendon,"  said  Isabelle,  "  you  would 
not  require  such  a  child  to  keep  Lent  ?  " 

"It  is  not  I  that  require  it,"  replied  Gregory.  "A 
child  that  is  old  enough  to  go  to  balls,  should  have  ar- 
rived at  years  of  discretion.  Is  n't  it  so,  Miss  Win- 
chester ?  "  he  said,  bowing  to  that  lady. 

"You  can't  suppose  I  intend  to  condemn  myself," 
replied  Isabelle,  laughing.  "  Nevertheless,  it  is  pleasant 
to  hear  something  besides  praise.  It  is  a  comfort  to 
find  one  man  who  will  not  flatter ! "  she  said,  a  little 
pnrcnstically. 

Gregory  colored.  "If  I  do  not  natter,  Miss  Isa- 
belle," he  replied,  "neither  would  I  condemn  any  one. 
But  this  child,"  he  said,  taking  Agatha's  hand,  "is  a 
little  protegee  of  mine,  and  I  feel  in  a  measure  re- 
sponsible for  her  well-doing." 


224  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

His  sympathizing  tone  and  manner  almost  persuaded 
Agatha  to  give  up  the  thought  of  the  amusement. 
She  had  an  earnest  desire  to  go  to  the  ball,  but  a  re- 
luctance to  grieve  her  best  friends.  Higher  than  this 
she  did  not  yet  look. 

As  she  went  for  her  bonnet  for  the  walk,  she  met 
Duncan  Winchester  on  the  stairs.  "  Miss  Agatha,"  he 
said,  pausing  before  her,  "  by  what  right  does  this 
young  parson  assume  this  authority  over  you  ? " 

Agatha  felt  inclined  to  smile  at  the  indignation  ex- 
pressed in  his  tone  of  voice,  but  she  replied,  "  It  is 
not  authority,  Mr.  Winchester,  that  Mr.  Clarendon  would 
exercise,  but  the  liberty  of  giving  advice." 

"  One  would  suppose  your  uncle's  permission  and 
our  wishes  were  sufficient,"  said  the  young  man  per- 


"  I   shall   probably  do   as   I   please,"    she   replied,  a 
little  proudly. 

At  this  moment  her  uncle's  voice  was  heard  in  the 
hall,  and  her  contemplated  walk  was  brought  to  an 
end,  Clarendon  and  his  sister  departing  without  her 
as  they  went,  discussing  the  removal  of  the  Fergu 
sons. 


ISABELLE    WINCHESTER.  225 

"  Did  you  ever  think,"  said  Gregory,  "  that  Stella 
Ferguson  reminds  one  strongly  of  Robert  Walton?" 

"Indeed  she  does!"  replied  Honora.  "It  is  Robert 
she  is  like.  The  same  deep  blue  eyes,  the  same  pen- 
sive expression,  the  same  fair,  open  brow." 

"And  the  same  toned  voice,"  said  her  brother. 
"Agatha  saw  the  resemblance  at  her  first  interview, 
and  was  possessed  with  the  idea  that  they  must  be 
relatives  of  Robert's.  It  seems  he  told  her  the  history 
of  his  life.  She  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  repeat  it  to 
me ;  but  he  acknowledged  that  his  friends  had  removed 
to  America,  that  he  had  never  seen  them  here,  and 
that  he  supposed  he  had  two  sisters." 

"The  surname  being  so  different,  might  have  satis- 
fied her,"  said  Honora. 

"  So  it  would  a  reasonable  person,"  replied  Gregory. 

"  But  you  know  Agatha's  determination.  She  was 
sure  the  Fergusons  had  assumed  a  name,  and  I  was 
obliged  to  exercise  all  my  authority  to  prevent  her 
from  doing  some  foolish  thing;  and  then  I  could  only 
persuade  her  by  promising  to  ask  Mr.  Ferguson  my- 
self if  that  was  his  family  name  in  England." 

"  And  you  really  did  it ! "  said  Honora,  laughing. 
10*  o 


226  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  Charlotte  has  often  wondered  at  your  influence  over 
the  child;  I  think  I  may  wonder  now  at  hers  over 
you." 

"I  was  ashamed  of  myself,"  he  replied,  "as  soon  as 
the  words  were  out  of  my  mouth;  for  the  old  man 
drew  back  his  noble  head,  and  answered  my  question 
in  the  affirmative,  adding,  that  'he  had  never  had  rea- 
son to  be  ashamed  of  his  name.' " 


A    MYSTERIOUS    DISAPPEARANCE.        227 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

A   MYSTERIOUS   DISAPPEARANCE. 

"  The  sorrows  of  my  spirit  are  enlarged, 
My  eyes  are  full  of  tears, 
The  grief  with  which  my  soul  is  overcharged 
Excites  strange  doubts  and  fears." 

AFTER  TAKING  leave  of  the  Fergusons  in 
the  cars  that  were  to  take  them  to  Rockridge, 
Clarendon  and  his  sister  returned  to  General  Winches- 
ter's. 

"  Come  in,  dear  brother,"  said  Honora,  as  they  reached 
the  door,  "  it  is  an  hour  when  I  can  see  you  alone,  and 
that  is  a  privilege  I  have  learned  to  prize."  She  led 
the  way  to  the  library. 

"  Gregory,"  she  said,  as  she  sunk  on  the  sofa,  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  "  I  am  very  weary 
of  life  here,  and  long  for  home.  I  thought  I  would 
never  say  so  to  you,  but  I  cannot  help  it,  existence 
seems  so  aimless  and  without  purpose  among  these 


228  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

frivolities  and  fashions."  She  smiled  through  her  tears 
as  he  stooped  to  kiss  her  cheek. 

"It  must  be  unsatisfying  to  you,  dear  Honora,"  he 
said,  taking  a  seat  by  her  side,  "  except  as  you  see 
father  amused  and  refreshed  by  opportunities,  of  which 
he  has  deprived  himself  for  years,  of  indulging  his  taste 
for  the  fine  arts." 

"  I  was  wrong,"  she  replied,  "  even  for  an  instant 
to  give  way  to  my  selfish  feelings.  Yes,  very  selfish," 
she  added.  "  But  I  have  had  such  an  unaccountable 
weight  upon  my  heart  all  day,  that  I  could  bear  it  no 
longer  without  the  sympathy  of  my  brother." 

"  It  may  be  partly  anxiety  for  Agatha  that  gives  you 
this  depression  just  now,"  he  replied.  "  I  own  to  hav- 
ing had  something  of  the  feeling  myself.  In  this  whirl- 
pool of  dissipation,  I  fear  all  her  better  feelings  will 
be  sunk." 

"  Yes,"  said  Honora  with  a  sigh ;  "  to-morrow  is  the 
night  of  the  fancy  ball,  and  her  uncle  urges  her  at- 
tendance ;  the  next  night  there  is  a  juvenile  party  in 
the  neighborhood,  the  next  a  dancing-school  ball,  and 
Friday  I  heard  Mr.  Douglass  tell  her  she  must  hold 
herself  engaged  to  go  with  him  to  see  some  celebrated 


A    MYSTERIOUS    DISAPPEARANCE.        229 

danseuse.  He  is  in  ecstasies  over  her  dancing,  which 
Isabella  tells  her  is  '  divine.'  On  the  whole,  her  young 
head  must  be  well  balanced  not  to  be  turned  with  all 
this  admiration." 

"Agatha's  nature  will  never  be  satisfied  with  these 
frivolities,"  replied  her  brother,  after  a  pause.  "They 
are  attractive  to  her  now  from  their  novelty,  but  she 
is  too  young,  altogether  too  young  to  — "  He  looked 
from  the  window,  and  saw  Agatha  on  horseback,  ac- 
sompanied  by  Duncan  Winchester. 

"  Astonishing  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  that  two  such  chil- 
iren  should  be  trusted  on  these  city  horses  alone." 

"Young  men  rarely  count  themselves  children  at 
nineteen,"  said  Honora,  looking  after  the  equestrians. 
"  But  must  you  go,  brother  ?  " 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  taking  up  his  hat  "It  is  late, 
and  I  have  yet  to  look  after  that  pet  dove  of  Stella's." 

The  kiss  with  which  the  brother  and  sister  parted 
was  followed  by  a  sigh  from  both  hearts.  At  the  cor- 
ner of  the  street  the  equestrian  "children"  dashed  by 
Mr.  Clarendon.  He  could  not  even  raise  a  smile  for 
Agatha,  but  touched  his  hat  and  walked  on.  It  was 
many  weeks  before  the  reflection  of  that  sad  look  passed 
from  the  remembrance  of  Agatha, 


230  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

The  child's  conscience  reproached  her,  amid  her  prep- 
arations for  the  great  ball;  but,  like  many  older  and 
wiser  than  herself,  she  strove  to  quiet  the  voice  of  the 
inward  monitor  by  plunging  more  deeply  into  the  gaye- 
ties  around  her.  The  Winchesters  were  all  devotion 
to  her,  and  everything  was  put  in  requisition  for  her 
gratification.  Mr.  Douglass,  too,  was  charmed  by  the 
ease  and  self-possession  with  which  she  received  all 
this  admiration,  and  wrapped  himself  around  with  an 
additional  garment  of  "  Douglass  pride ; "  and  when 
Honora  spoke  very  gently  of  "  Agatha's  extreme  youth," 
and  the  fear  she  had  of  "  bringing  her  forward  too 
soon,"  he  replied  "  that  the  Douglass  family  matured 
earlier  than  most  families.  His  mother  was  married 
at  sixteen" 

Two  days  passed,  the  fancy  ball  was  accomplished, 
and  the  juvenile  party  and  private  theatricals  followed. 
Colonel  Clarendon  rallied  Agatha  on  her  non-appear- 
ance at  breakfast  after  this  last  performance,  telling 
her  "  she  would  hardly  fulfil  a  destiny  like  her  grand- 
mother if  she  gave  out  so  easily." 

Honora  had  a  foreboding  that  something  was  wrong 
with  Gregory.  He  had  not  been  to  the  house  since 


A    MYSTERIOUS    DISAPPEARANCE.        231 

their  interview  in  the  library,  and  after  a  sleepless 
night  she  begged  her  father  —  it  being  the  third  day 
of  his  absence  —  to  send  to  his  rooms.  Isabelle  laughed 
heartily  at  the  idea,  and  Duncan  Winchester  hazarded 
the  remark  (aside  to  Agatha),  that  a  young  man  above 
twenty-one  should  be  capable  of  taking  care  of  himself. 
The  shadow  of  Gregory's  last  unsmiling  look  remained, 
and  Agatha  joined  her  entreaties  with  those  of  Honora, 
A  servant  was  immediately  despatched  to  his  lodgings, 
who  returned  with  the  startling,  confounding  intelligence, 
that  Mr.  Clarendon  had  not  been  seen  there  for  three 
days.  Now,  indeed,  raillery  and  smiles  were  exchanged 
for  hearty  sympathy  and  deep  sorrow.  Inquiries  were 
set  on  foot ;  the  police  were  put  in  requisition ;  every 
movement  was  made  which  a  father's  heart  could  de- 
vise, or  a  friend's  affection  prompt,  but  without  suc- 
cess. 

Honora  walked  her  chamber,  wringing  her  hands, 
agitated  by  contending  hopes  and  fears.  Isabelle  sought 
to  comfort  her,  but  the  sister  looked  at  her  imploringly. 
"  Don't,  Isabelle,  please  don't,"  she  said ;  "  you  distress 
me.  There  is  only  One  who  can  give  me  comfort  in 
this  time  of  suspense."  Peace  came  to  her  soul,  when 


232  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

she  could  bring  herself  to  feel  that  One  eye  neither 
slumbered  nor  slept,  and  that  that  eye  was  surely 
watching  over  Gregory  with  more  than  a  human  fa- 
ther's love.  When  the  calm  stole  upon  her  own  spirit, 
intent  upon  the  comfort  of  others,  she  sought  Agatha. 

The  child  had  thrown  herself  prostrate  on  the  floor, 
and  was  convulsed  with  weeping.  Isabelle  and  her 
brothers  in  vain  had  striven  to  soothe  her  hysteri- 
cal sobbing,  and  Honora  met  with  no  better  success. 
She  was  at  length,  by  the  advice  of  the  physician,  car- 
ried fainting  to  her  own  room.  The  gentlemen  returned 
late  at  night,  without  intelligence  of  the  absentee.  They 
had  no  trace  of  him  after  he  left  the  house  where  the 
Fergusons  lived.  Days  went  by  with  weary  monotony ; 
Providence  had  indeed  given  them  a  season  of  mourn- 
ing and  weeping.  Agatha  was  confined  to  her  bed 
with  a  low  nervous  fever,  and  Honora,  between  her 
bedside  and  endeavors  to  quiet  the  unrest  of  her  poor 
father,  found  ample  employment. 

It  happened,  about  a  week  after  the  disappearance, 
that  Honora,  leaving  Agatha  under  the  influence  of  an 
opiate,  went  out  to  attend  one  of  the  Lenten  services. 
She  desired  to  carry  her  grief  to  the  house  of  God. 


A    MYSTEEIOUS    DISAPPEARANCE.        233 

As  she  turned  the  corner  of  a  retired  street,  a  step 
near  her  caused  her  to  look  around.  A  paper  was 
thrust  into  her  hand,  and  she  could  only  tell  that  the 
giver  was  a  female.  She  opened  the  dirty  scrawl  as 
she  took  her  seat  in  church.  The  handwriting  was 
familiar.  Her  heart  beat  violently  as  she  read :  — 

"  If  Miss  Clarendon  wishes  to  hear  of  her  brother, 
she  must  meet  me  a  half-hour  before  sunrise,  to-mor- 
row, at  the  east  corner  of Street.  Miss  Clar- 
endon need  fear  nothing  if  she  is  secret" 

In  deep  thanksgiving  did  her  soul  pour  itself  out 
for  the  life  of  her  brother,  and  in  earnest  prayers  for 
guidance.  She  had  but  one  opinion  about  her  duty 
in  the  matter  of  the  communication  she  held  with  such 
a  tight  cla^p.  For  her  to  meet  by  appointment,  se- 
cretly, a  notorious  blackleg,  on  familiar  and  conversable 
terms,  seemed  to  her  positive  sin,  and  she  took  the 
note  at  once  to  her  father. 

"  God  be  praised  he  is  alive ! "  he  exclaimed  eagerly, 
as  he  read  the  lines. 

"  Father,"  said  Honora,  after  much  thought,  "  Aga- 
tha suggests  that  Chet  might  be  of  service  hi  this 
search." 


234  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  Certainly,  certainly,  daughter.  Bless  the  child  Aga- 
tha. Chet  would  be  invaluable.  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Clement 
to  come  to  us.  I  will  despatch  some  one  for  Chet." 

He  had  stepped  into  the  hall,  but,  the  door-bell  ring- 
ing, he  passed  again  into  the  library ;  he  could  not 
meet  strangers.  A  well-known  voice  reached  Honora's 
quick  ear,  and,  regardless  of  everything  but  her  brother, 
she  rushed  forward  to  meet  the  Rev.  Mr.  Clement. 
Standing  behind,  with  arms  folded,  as  if  doubtful  wheth- 
er he  should  come  in,  was  Chet.  This  was  no  time 
for  distinctions  or  conventionalities.  Deep  sorrow,  like 
death,  is  a  great  leveller,  and  Chet  was  soon  seated  in 
the  library,  listening  to  the  oft-repeated  tale  of  Clar- 
endon's departure  and  non-appearance.  When  the 
ground  was  gone  over,  and  the  necessity  of  secrecy 
enjoined,  Colonel  Clarendon  produced  the  letter  Ho- 
nora  had  given  him. 

"Who  is  this?"  said  Mr.  Clement.  "He  writes 
like  an  old  acquaintance." 

"  He  is  that  notorious  scamp,  Dick  Walbridge,"  said 
Colonel  Clarendon,  indignantly.  "  This  is  his  way  of 
showing  gratitude  to  his  friends.  It  is  to  him  we  owe 
this  suffering." 


A   MYSTERIOUS   DISAPPEARANCE.        235 

Chet  instinctively  put  his  hand  into  his  bosom,  say- 
ing, "  He  deserves  to  die." 

"  But  not  by  your  hand,"  said  Mr.  Clement,  laying 
his  finger  on  Chet's  arm.  "  Vengeance  is  mine.  I 
will  repay,  saith  the  Lord." 

"Yes,  Chet,"  said  tke  Colonel,  "you  must  not  let 
your  hot  blood  get  the  better  of  your  cool  judgment." 

Chet  bowed,  but  did  not  speak. 


236  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

VILLANY  UNSUCCESSFUL. 

"  You  must  not  think 
That  we  are  made  of  stuff  so  flat  and  dull, 
That  we  can  let  our  beard  be  shook  with  danger, 
And  think  it  pastime." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

WE  WILL  now  return  to  Gregory,  whom  we  left 
in  sad  meditation.     He  proceeded  on  his  mis- 
sion to  the  lone  dove,  promising  a  child  in  a  tenement 
near  by  something  very  nice  if  she   would   watch   it 
well,  intending  himself  to  take  it  to  Stella  at  Easter. 

The  entrance  of  the  alley  was  very  dark ;  the  friendly 
lights  did  not  penetrate  its  recesses.  Gregory  was  won- 
dering how  anything  as  pure  and  refined  as  the  Fer- 
gusons could  have  come  out  like  the  spotless  ermine 
from  so  much  filth,  without  a  mark,  and  chiding  him- 
self for  venturing  at  such  an  hour  into  the  place,  when 
a  well-aimed  blow  from  behind,  but  not  a  severe  one, 


VILLANY    UNSUCCESSFUL.  237 

struck  him  senseless  to  the  ground.  Returning  con- 
sciousness found  him  in  a  small  apartment  in  the  upper 
story  of  a  very  high  house.  By  his  bedside  sat  a  wo- 
man. The  dreadful  lines  of  neglected  childhood  and 
corrupted  youth  marked  her  countenance. 

"Where  am  I?"  he. said,  endeavoring  to  rise. 

The  coarse  reply  we  will  not  repeat.  It  caused 
Gregory,  with  a  strong  effort,  to  raise  himself  and  put 
the  greatest  possible  distance  between  himself  and  the 
female.  The  high  window  in  the  roof,  from  which  he 
could  only  see  the  blue  sky,  was  heavily  barred.  He 
tried  the  door;  that  was  secured  in  the  same  manner. 
His  eye  soon  accomplished  the  survey  of  the  apart- 
ment, and  there,  wherever  he  turned,  sat  that  hideous 
object,  grinning  and  mouthing  at  him.  Robbery,  he 
taw,  was  not  the  purpose  of  the  attack  upon  his  person, 
for  his  watch  hung  in  its  place,  and  his  pocket-book 
was  where  he  left  it.  "What  enemy,"  he  continually 
asked  himself,  "have  I,  that  would  dare  do  so  bold  a 
thing."  Suddenly  it  flashed  upon  his  mind  that  it  was 
Dick  Walbridge.  Yes,  he  had  removed  the  Fergusons 
beyond  the  reach  of  his  violence,  and  this  was  Dick's 
revenge.  He  remembered,  through  life,  wicked 


238  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

planned  by  Richard,  that  he  had  frustrated.  Presently 
he  heard  the  hoarse  voices  of  men  in  the  passage,  the 
bars  were  loosened,  and  the  woman  was  called  out. 
This  was  an  inexpressible  relief.  To  be  imprisoned 
was  severe,  but  to  be  shut  up  with  such  company  was 
unendurable.  "  What  can  I  do  ? "  he  said  to  himself, 
as  he  paced  to  and  fro  the  narrow  apartment.  There 
was  but  one  reply,  "  Nothing."  With  Clarendon's  im- 
petuous, determined  nature,  it  was  no  easy  matter  to 
come  to  this  decision.  After  contemplation  and  prayer, 
the  first  desire,  to  make  Richard  feel  the  force  of  an 
arm  nerved  with  a  sense  of  injury,  passed  away.  The 
Christian  arose  superior  to  the  man,  and,  committing 
his  case  to  One  whom  his  firm  faith  believed  to  be 
"  the  Ruler  and  Governor  of  all  things,"  he  sunk  into 
a  disturbed  slumber. 

Day  succeeded  day,  with  weary,  lagging  pace.  Clar- 
endon heard  nothing  from  the  outer  world,  except  the 
rough  voices  of  men  in  the  passage,  whenever  the  door 
was  opened  to  admit  the  hideous  woman  who  brought 
him  his  daily  allowance  of  bread  and  tea.  He  had 
been  tempted  to  try  his  single  strength  with  the  out- 
siders, but  his  better  judgment  prevailed,  and  he  re- 


VILLANY    UNSUCCESSFUL.  239 

raained  quiet.  He  was  surprised  one  morning,  as  he 
leaned  wearily  against  the  wall,  gazing  at  the  little  spot 
of  sky  that  was  visible,  by  the  footsteps  of  a  man,  after 
the  unbarring  of  the  door,  and,  turning  his  head,  he  at 
once  recognized  his  visitor. 

"  It  is  to  you,  then,  Dick  ?  "  he  said,  carelessly,  "  that 
I  am  indebted  for  this  durance  vile.  This  is  gratitude 
for  my  sister's  mistaken  kindness.  How  long  do  you 
intend  to  keep  me  thus?" 

"Till  they  pay  well  for  you,"  said  Dick,  sullenly. 

"  A  ransom ! "  replied  Gregory,  contemptuously. 
"Never!" 

"  Yes,  but  they  must,"  said  Richard,  tauntingly.  "  I 
have  you  snug  here,  and  they  may  mourn  to  their 
hearts'  content.  Besides,"  he  added,  "  you  crossed  my 
path,  and  carried  off  my  pet  dove  for  your  own  pur- 
poses." 

"  Stop,  Richard  Walbridge,"  said  Gregory,  haughtily. 

"You  ever  had  a  false  tongue.     Solitude  is  preferable 

« 
to  your  company. 

"  I  am  not  to  be  put  off  thus,"  replied  Richard. 
"  You  must  write  to  your  sister  to  meet  me  and  pay 
your  ransom,  or  she  may  weep  her  pretty  eyes  out 
for  3-011.  ns  she  did  for  her  lover,  in  vain." 


240  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MABY. 

The  color  mounted  to  Clarendon's  brow,  fire  gleamed 
from  his  eye,  but  he  checked  the  rising  wrath,  and 
walked  to  the  other  side  of  the  room  without  reply. 

"  Come,  none  of  this,"  said  his  companion,  with  a 
cowardly  laugh ;  "  write  to  Miss  Nora  to  meet  me, 
and  I  will  tell  her  where  to  bring  the  money."  He 
took  pen  and  paper  from  his  pocket,  saying,  "  She  will 
come  if  you  bid  her." 

"  Bid  her  meet  you !  Faithless,  cowardly  reprobate  ! 
Never !  Your  look  would  defile  her  !  " 

"  I  have  looked  on  brighter  faces  than  hers,"  he  said, 
sneeringly.  "  But  if  you  will  not  help  me,"  he  added, 
with  an  oath,  "  I  must  tiy  what  I  can  do  myself,  by 
crossing  her  path." 

Alone  again,  Gregory  was  harassed  by  new  fears. 
Perhaps  Honora  might  risk  hersrlf  with  the  hope  of 
saving  him.  "  O  Thou  who  rulest  and  governest  all 
things,  in  heaven  and  earth,"  he  repeated,  over  and 
over  again,  fully  realizing  that  it  is  one  thing  to  say 
these  words,  and  quite  another  to  believe  and  practise 
upon  them.  Honora  brought  in  contact  with  the  wretch 
who  held  him  in  custody,  was  a  thought  that  greatly 
aggravated  his  present  misery. 


VILLANY    UNSUCCESSFUL.  241 

The  conference  in  the  library  at  General  Winches- 
ter's occupied  a  long  evening.  Colonel  Clarendon  was 
unwilling  Honora  should  be  brought  out  in  this  matter ; 
and  yet  there  seemed  to  be  no  way  to  meet  the  emer- 
gency but  through  her.  Chet  modestly  assured  him 
that  Miss  Nora  would  be  safe  under  his  protection.' 
In  physical  strength  he  could  match  two  or  three  like 
Dick.  The  first  step  was  to  disguise  Chet.  His  home- 
spun clothes  were  exchanged  for  a  suit  of  the  finest 
broadcloth,  cut  in  the  extreme  of  the  fashion.  A  hat  of 
superior  finish  and  fabric,  half-boots  of  patent  leather, 
yellow  kid  gloves,  a  Spanish  cloak  about  his  shoulders, 
and  a  sword  cane  in  his  hand,  transformed  "  the  lord 
of  the  Gorge  "  into  a  figure  that  might  well  be  envied 
by  the  pale-faced,  miniature  dandies  who  promenade 
our  thoroughfares  and  drink  mint-juleps  in  our  saloons. 
Chet  was  well  acquainted  with  the  streets  of  New 
York.  Autumn  and  winter  often  brought  him  there 
with  game  from  his  rocky  home. 

With  the  first  gray  light  of  morning,  Chet,  in  his 
new  suit,  approached,  by  a  devious  path,  the  place  of 
meeting.  By  the  straight  course  from  General  Win- 
chester's, a  little  later,  Honora  Clarendon  walked 
11  r 


242  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

thoughtfully.  Now  and  then  a  policeman  would  pause, 
turn,  and  look  after  her.  A  thick  black  veil  saved  her 
the  consciousness  of  being  observed.  As  she  approached 
the  corner  of  the  designated  street,  a  man  stood,  appar- 
ently waiting  for  her.  Casting  her  eyes  on  the  oppo- 
site sidewalk,  she  was  reassured  by  the  sight  of  Chet, 
who  was  proceeding  at  a  slow,  negligent  pace. 

Richard  approached  when  he  saw  he  was  observed. 
There  is  something  in  the  presence  of  a  gentle,  Chris- 
tian woman  that  awes  for  a  moment  the  most  hardened. 
His  eyes  sunk  to  the  ground  as  Honora  looked  at 
him. 

"  Richard  Walbridge,  is  this  you  ?  "  she  exclaimed ; 
"  and  is  it  you  that  have  caused  such  anguish  in  the 
hearts  of  those  who  have  shown  themselves  friendly  ?  " 

"  Your  brother  crossed  my  path,"  he  said,  fiercely  ; 
"  not  for  the  first  time,  neither,  —  he  shall  pay  for  it,  — 
and  I  demand  a  heavy  ransom,  and  you  must  bring  it," 
he  added,  laying  his  polluted  hand  on  her  arm. 

"Name  your  price,  Richard  Walbridge,"  she  said, 
drawing  back ;  "  it  grieves  me  even  now  that  your 
heart  can  only  be  reached  by  money." 

"  Beware,  Miss  Nora,"  he  said.     "  Do  not  rouse  me. 


VILLANY    UNSUCCESSFUL.  243 

Money  I  must  have,  money  I  will  have,  and  you  must 
bring  it  here.  No,  not  here,"  he  said,  hurriedly,  as  a 
gentleman  crossed  the  street  and  approached  them.  It 
was  Chet,  who  came  by,  in  an  indifferent  manner,  pass- 
ing so  near  Honora  that  her  veil  caught  in  his  dress. 
He  disengaged  himself,  bowed  and  went  on.  Richard 
turned  and .  gazed  after  him,  deceived  by  the  disguise. 

"Mr.  Walbridge,"  said  Honora,  almost  faint  with 
excitement,  "  if  I  obtain  money  for  you,  some  other 
way  must  be  appointed  for  receiving  it  These  meet- 
ings are  too  painful." 

The  villain  looked  at  her ;  she  did  not  quail. 

"  Speak  at  once,"  she  said,  more  boldly.  "  Name 
the  price  at  which  my  brother  must  be  ransomed.  Let 
it  be  done  speedily." 

"  You  shall  hear  from  me  again,"  he  said,  —  "  to-mor- 
row, perhaps.  Is  my  touch  so  defiling,  that  you  draw 
back  thus  ?  " 

She  escaped  from  him,  almost  fainting,  disappointed 
with  herself  that  she  had  proved  so  timid.  She  had 
accomplished  nothing.  All  her  heroism  vanished,  and 
she  went  home  to  weep  bitterly. 

When  Miss  Clarendon  left  Walbridge,  Chet  followed 


244  THE    CHAPEL    OP    ST.    MARY. 

at  a  distance  till  he  saw  him  enter  a  low  tavern  in  the 
suburbs  of  the  city.  He  hesitated.  Should  he  meet  the 
rogue  alone  ?  He  might  lose  all  by  one  imprudent  act. 
Five  minutes  earned  him  to  General  "Winchester's ; 
and,  without  waiting  to  explain,  he  simply  said,  "  Gen- 
tlemen, if  you  will  go  with  me,  I  think  I  can  show  you 
the  rogue." 

They  came  into  the  low  inn  as  Dick,  having  hur- 
ried his  morning  meal,  called  for  a  room. 

"  Show  the  gentleman  to  No.  5,"  was  the  command 
Chet  heard  given  to  the  slipshod  waiter,  and  he  fol- 
lowed, at  a  respectful  distance.  Before  Dick  had  made 
fast  the  door  on  the  inside,  it  was  quietly  opened,  and 
Chet  stood  before  him. 

"  Richard  Walbridge,"  said  he,  slowly,  never  once 
removing  his  eyes  from  the  young  man,  "tell  me 
where  you  have  hidden  Gregory  Clarendon.  Other 
things  I  have  to  settle  —  Stay,"  he  said,  striking 
down  the  pistol  that  Dick  pointed  towards  him,  "  this 
shall  not  serve  you." 

He  drew  his  own  trusty  weapon  from  his  breast, 
while  he  held  the  young  man's  right  arm  in  his  pow- 
erful grasp.  By  a  quick  movement,  Dick  regained  his 


VILLANY    UNSUCCESSFUL.  245 

own  weapon,  but  it  was  discharged  in  the  effort,  the  ball 
passing  through  the  floor.  The  lithe  and  nimble  Rich- 
ard was  no  match  for  the  stout  arms  of  his  antagonist, 
and  he  soon  lay  prostrate.  The  pistol-shot,  however, 
brought  the  keeper  of  the  house,  and  several  men,  to 
the  spot.  A  carriage  conveyed  the  rogue  through  the 
streets,  accompanied  by  Chet  and  liis  friends,  with  a 
police-officer. 

Finding  himself  in  the  worst,  he  sunk  into  dogged 
silence,  supposing,  of  course,  that  they  intended  to  de- 
liver him  to  justice.  They  alighted,  however,  at  the 
door  of  General  Winchester's  elegant  mansion,  and  a 
council  of  war  was  held  over  the  prisoner  in  the 
breakfast-room.  Some  of  the  parties  were  for  deliv- 
ering "Walbridge  at  once  into  the  hands  of  the  law; 
but  the  uncertainty  whether  thereby  they  should  dis- 
cover the  retreat  of  Clarendon  held  them  back.  It 
was  at  length  proposed  to  the  rascal,  without  leaving 
any  alternative  but  imprisonment,  that  he  should  give 
them  the  knowledge  of  Gregory's  whereabouts,  and 
accept  a  free  passage  to  Australia  in  a  vessel  about 
to  sail  for  that  port.  He  did  not  long  hesitate.  Liberty 
was  dearer  to  him  than  revenge,  and  he  gave  them  a 


246  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST".    MARY. 

passport,  in  a  jargon  they  could  not  understand,  that 
liberated  Clarendon ;  but  the  Australian  mission  was 
a  failure.  During  the  hurry  and  bustle  of  a  large  ship 
preparing  for  so  long  a  voyage,  the  vigilance  of  both 
Chet  and  the  officer  was  at  fault,  and  the  rogue  es- 
caped to  his  old  haunts. 


MATTERS    AT     ROCKRIDGE.  247 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

MATTERS   AT  ROCKRIDGE. 

"  They  '11  sit  by  the  fire,  and  presume  to  know 
What's  done  i'the  Capitol;  who's  like  to  rise, 
Who  thrives,  and  who  declines;  side  factions,  and  give  out 
Conjectural  marriages,  making  parties  strong, 
And  feebling  such  as  stand  not  in  their  liking." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

«  T  OOK  HERE,  Deacon ! "  said  Mrs.  Dobbin,  one 
I  1  chilly  morning  in  early  spring,  as  she  pushed 
up  her  spectacles  and  clapped  her  hands,  as  if  she 
had  heard  some  news  of  an  exceedingly  interesting 
nature.  "Look  here,  husband!  Ann  Tildy,  just  poke 
the  fire,  and  sit  down  while  I  read  you  this.  This 
will  make  their  ears  tingle!" 

The  obedient  Ann  'Tildy  seated  herself  at  once  near 
her  mother,  eyes  and  mouth  saying  plainly,  "I  am 
listening ! " 

The  paper  from  which  Mrs.   Dobbin  read  was  one 


2-48  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

•which  good  people  condemn,  for  its  notorious  habit  of 
insinuating  •  against  the  characters  of  the  upright,  and 
its  delight  in  dishing  up  disgusting  gossip  to  suit  the 
palate  of  the  fastidious.  The  Deacon  took  the  paper 
for  its  politics  and  its  extensive  circulation.  Mrs. 
Dobbin  fed  her  love  of  scandal  from  its  column?,  and 
chuckled  over  its  detailed  accounts  of  delinquent  minis- 
ters and  depraved  fellow-Christians. 

"  MYSTERIOUS  DISAPPEARANCE ! ! 
"  For  some  days,  our  city  has  been  moved  by  the 
sudden  disappearance  from  our  midst,  of  a  young  gen- 
tleman, a  student  of  theology,  belonging  to  a  highly  re- 
spectable family  in  a  neighboring  town.  For  five  days 
he  has  been  seen  neither  at  his  rooms,  nor  by  any  of 
his  circle  of  distressed  friends.  The  police,  though  (as 
usual)  active  in  the  matter,  have  failed  to  discover  his 
whereabouts.  A  certain  notorious  gambler  is  suspected 
of  spiriting  away  the  young  clergyman.  It  is  rumored 
that  the  gentleman  crossed  the  path  of  the  rogue  in 
some  affair ! " 

"  There ! "    exclaimed    Mrs.    Dobbin,    when    she    had 
finished  the  paragraph.     "  This  must  be  young  Claren- 


MATTERS    AT    ROCKRIDGE.  249 

don !  It  is  astonishing  how  young  men  behave  when 
they  get  to  New  York  !  A  minister,  too !  Well,  I  'm 
,glad  he  ain't  one  of  our  sort ! " 

"  Tom  Ridgway  says,"  replied  the  Deacon,  as  if  the 
matter  had  been  fully  discussed  by  the  lords  of  crea- 
tion, in  the  centre  of  newsdom,  —  "  Tom  says,  that  good- 
for-nothing  Dick  Walbridge  is  at  the  bottom  of  this ! " 

"  Well,  now,  I  wonder  how  Tom  knew  ? "  said  the 
amiable  spouse.  "Them  Ridgways  think  a  sight  of 
Tom.  I  dare  say  he  'a  no  better  than  he  should  be ! 
To  think  of  his  marrying  that  New  York  girl,  with 
her  stuck-up  airs,  when  he  might  have  had  his  choice 
of  the  pretty  girls  at  home,"  she  said,  looking  at  Ann 
'Tildy. 

She  was  interrupted  in  her  judgment  upon  Tom 
Ridgway  by  the  entrance  of  his  sisters.  Receiving 
them  as  her  "  dearest  friends,"  she  rallied  Eliza  on  her 
pale  looks,  telling  her  they  were  "mighty  becoming." 

"  She  may  well  look  pale,"  said  Julia,  untying  her 
bonnet-strings,  evidently  preparing  to  stay ;  "  she  has 
done  nothing  but  lament  the  fate  of  Clarendon,  since 
the  news  came.  I  say  it  serves  him  right  for  bring- 
ing another  set  of  beggars  into  Rockridge.  Father 
11* 


250  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.   MARY. 

says  this  family  that  have  come  to  the  Gorge  are  mis- 
erably poor  and  helpless,  and  withal  so  mighty  grand ! 
I  hate  grand  poor  folks !  Then  here  is  Mr.  Clement 
urging  Eliza  and  me  to  call  upon  them !  If  Tom's 
wife  chooses  to  make  a  fool  of  herself  in  this  way,  — 
and  you  too  Eliza,  —  you  are  welcome,  but  you  need 
never  ask  me  to  go!"  she  said,  tossing  her  head,  and 
throwing  down  her  outer  garments. 

"  Sister,"  replied  Eliza,  without  looking  up  from  her 
crochet-needles,  which  she  had  already  taken  out,  anx- 
ious to  preserve  her  reputation  for  industry,  "  you 
know  I  told  you  my  reasons  for  calling.  Mr.  Clem- 
ent's wishes  ought  to  be  a  sufficient  motive,  certainly, 
in  so  slight  a  matter." 

Julia  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  looked  knowingly 
at  Mrs.  Dobbin. 

"They  say,"  said  Mrs.  Dobbin,  in  her  shrill  voice, 
"  that  these  folks  are  English.  Their  name  is  Fergu- 
son, any  way.  Ferguson  was  Mrs.  Douglass's  maiden 
name.  It  aint  possible  they  are  any  relation,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,"  replied  Julia.  "  Mr.  Douglass 
never  was  fond  of  his  poor  relations.  lie  and  the 
Clarendons  are  so  thick,  he  must  have  known  of  their 


MATTERS    AT    ROCKRIDGE.  251 

coming,  and  have  prevented  it,  if  he  did  not  wish 
it." 

"  Have  you  seen  Papsy  ? "  said  Mrs.  Dobbin,  turn- 
ing to  the  girls  so  suddenly  as  almost  to  startle  them. 

"  No  indeed,"  they  replied  eagerly.      "  Have  you  ?  " 

"Yes;  the  Deacon  and  I  felt  it  to  be  our  duty  to 
go.  You  know,  Chet  has  taken  her  home ;  she  '& 
dreadful  sick,  and  hardly  speaks  to  anybody.  Your  Mr. 
Clement  was  there  when  we  called.  I  asked  the  poor 
thing  if  she  knew  what  a  sinner  she  was ;  but  she 
never  made  me  even  a  nod  for  an  answer ;  but  she  's 
going,  I  guess,  where  she  can't  get  away  from  that 
question." 

"Will  she  die?"  inquired  Julia. 

"I  think  so,"  replied  Mrs.  Dobbin,  with  indifference; 
"  you  know  her  mother  died,  not  much  older  than  she, 
a  poor  miserable  thing." 

While  in  the  midst  of  this  talk,  Tom  Ridgway  came 
to  secure  the  company  of  his  sisters  for  his  first  call 
with  his  wife  on  the  Fergusons.  Julia  refused  to  go, 
decidedly.  Eh'za  hesitated,  between  her  fear  of  com- 
promising her  dignity  and  her  desire  to  do  something 
which  would  recommend  her  in  the  eyes  of  young 


252  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

Clarendon  or  the  Rev.  Mr.  Clement,  it  was  immaterial 
which ;  —  a  clergyman  she  had  long  ago  decided  the 
happy  man  must  be.  The  latter  motive  prevailed,  and 
she  accompanied  her  brother  to  the  Bird's  Nest,  Miss 
Julia  congratulating  herself  upon  the  prospect  of  finish- 
ing the  talk  with  Mrs.  Dobbin  without  the  presence 
of  a  third  person. 


THE    DISCOVERY.  253 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

THE   DISCOVERY. 

"  There  are  some  happy  moments  in  this  lone 
And  desolate  world  of  ours,  that  well  repay 
The  toil  of  struggling  through  it,  and  alone, 
For  many  a  long,  sad  night  and  weary  day. 
They  come  upon  the  mind  like  some  wild  air 
Of  distant  music,  which  we  know  not  where 
Or  whence  the  sounds  are  brought  from." 

HALLECK. 

THE  HOUR  was  fixed  for  the  return  of  Colonel 
Clarendon  and  his  daughter  to  Woodland  Bluff. 
They  had  many  pleasant  memories  of  their  visit  Gal- 
leries of  paintings,  the  studios  of  artists,  rooms  of  stat- 
uary, and  private  collections  of  fine  arts,  had  been 
freely  opened  to  Colonel  Clarendon.  He  had  enjoyed, 
too,  the  society  of  brother  officers,  and  lived  over  with 
them  the  stirring  scenes  of  soldier  life.  Honora,  though 
her  yearning  for  home  had  been  constant,  could  not 
leave  persons  with  whom  she  had  lived  for  several 


254  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

weeks  without  a  shade  of  sadness.  She  had,  with 
great  difficulty,  persuaded  Mr.  Douglass  to  allow  Aga- 
tha to  return  to  Rockridge  with  her,  provided  the  child 
herself  wished  it.  Her  strength  had  not  been  restored 
since  her  illness,  and  physicians  advised  quiet  and  rest. 
Her  uncle,  immersed  in  the  gayeties  of  a  city  life, 
needed,  perhaps,  an  excuse  for  his  strong  desire  for 
amusement,  when  he  assured  Honora  he  remained 
there  himself  "  wholly  on  Agatha's  account."  His  pride 
had  been  flattered  by  the  impression  she  had  made 
with  the  Winchesters.  He  was  a  man  of  the  world,  — 
shrewd,  planning,  far-seeing.  It  had  occui-red  to  him, 
when  he  had  seen  the  devotion  of  the  young  Winchesters 
to  his  niece,  their  evident  admiration  of  her,  and  rivalry 
with  each  other  for  her  hand  in  the  dance,  that,  in 
due  time,  —  Agatha  was  now  fifteen,  and  his  mother 
was  married  at  sixteen,  —  it  might  be  well  to  secure 
so  fine  a  prospect  for  his  adopted  daughter  as  the  wife 
of  the  son  of  the  wealthy,  distinguished,  and  aristocratic 
General  Winchester.  That  there  are  such  planning 
fathers  and  mothers,  who  take  many  "  a  long  look 
ahead"  for  their  children,  is  a  truth  that  every  one's 
observation  will  corroborate.  The  matter,  however,  of 


THE    DISCOVERY.  255 

Agatha's  immediate  return  to  Rockridge  was  left  with 
the  child  herself,  and,  with  her  innate  strength  of  char- 
acter, she  decided  that  energy  and  vigor  were  dearer 
to  her  than  all  the  smiles  and  adulations  of  her  new- 
found friends. 

It  was  really  charming  to  see  Honora  once  more  in 
the  cottage  at  Woodland.  She  went  over  the  rooms 
again  and  again,  as  a  child  goes  over  a  familiar  pic- 
ture, discovering  new  beauties  continually.  The  little 
conservatory  Gregory  had  built  for  her  with  his  own 
hands  was  full  of  choice  plants  that  had  been  tended 
by  a  careful  hand,  and  promised  plenty  of  bright  blos- 
soms for  Easter. 

There  had  been  changes,  even  in  Rockridge,  during 
the  few  weeks  of  Honora's  absence.  Tom  Ridgway  had 
bought  a  piece  of  ground  next  Mr.  Douglass's  estate, 
and  was  building  an  Italian  villa.  Chauncey  Douglass 
was  still  at  Maple  Cliff,  living  the  life  of  a  recluse. 

Honora  found  Papsy,  feeble  and  suffering,  with  a 
meek,  blue-eyed  babe  on  her  arm,  whose  influence  on 
the  child-mother  was  like  the  gentle  dew  on  the  open- 
ing flower. 

•'  O  Miss  Nora ! "  she  exclaimed,  as  Miss  Clarendon 


256  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

put  out  her  hand  to  take  the  baby,  "  good  out  of  evil, 
—  God  has  done  it,  —  Papsy  sees  it  now." 

Robert  Walton  was  still  a  visitor  at  "Woodland.  He 
had  been  but  once  into  the  open  air,  and  was  re- 
manded by  a  sharp  pain  in  his  chest ;  however,  he  had 
gained  strength,  and  with  prudence,  Dr.  Woodbury 
said,  he  would  be  prepared  for  his  journey  when  spring 
opened. 

As  soon  as  it  was  practicable,  Honora  and  Agatha 
visited  the  Fergusons  in  their  new  home.  They  were 
full  of  grateful  thanks  for  the  blessings  that  surrounded 
them.  The  few  articles  of  furniture  were  arranged 
to  the  best  advantage,  and  the  father's  arm-chair  —  a 
remnant  of  better  days  —  stood  in  the  corner  of  the 
tiny  parlor.  Over  the  mantel-shelf  was  a  picture  Ho- 
nora had  never  seen.  Agatha's  attention  was  attracted 
by  it  at  once,  and  as  she  gazed  Catherine  remarked, 
"  That  is  a  sketch  of  our  home  over  the  water.  We 
value  it  as  the  work  of  our  mother." 

Honora  noted  the  deadly  paleness  of  Agatha's  cheek, 
and  the  trembling  of  her  limbs,  and  led  her  to  the 
arm-chair,  apologizing  by  speaking  of  her  recent  ill- 
ness and  probable  fatigue.  Six  months  before,  Agatha 


THE    DISCOVERY.  257 

would  have  openly  told  the  cause  of  her  agitation,  but 
she  was  growing  into  womanhood,  and  gaining  in  self- 
control. 

As  soon  as  they  reached  home,  she  threw  her  arms 
about  Honora's  neck,  crying,  "It  must  be,  it  must  be. 
The  Fergusons  are  Mr.  Walton's  father  and  sisters." 

Miss  Clarendon  acknowledged  the  proofs  were  strong, 
as  Agatha  told  the  tale  of  the  two  pictures.  Colonel 
Clarendon  was  sanguine  that  it  might  be  as  she  felt 
it  must  be.  Childlike,  Agatha  was  exceedingly  desi- 
rous to  communicate  to  Walton  the  joyful  news,  and 
after  many  cautious,  she  hastened,  with  a  flushed  face 
and  beating  heart,  to  meet  the  object  of  her  solicitude. 

He  welcomed  her  into  the  conservatory  by  saying, 
"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  dear.  I  was  wishing  for  some 
little  person  who  could  get  on  those  steps  and  reach 
me  that  tiny  cape  jasmine.  But,  my  precious  child, 
what  has  happened  ? "  he  added,  observing  the  alter- 
nate glow  and  paleness  that  came  over  her  cheek. 

All  Agatha's  set  speeches  vanished.  "  You  remem- 
ber," she  said,  with  downcast  eyes,  —  for  slfe  did  not 
dare  trust  herself  to  look  him  in  the  face,  — ki  you  told 
me  about  your  home  and  your  sisters.  I  have  thought 

Q 


258  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

of  them  continually,  and  longed  to  restore  them  to 
you.  You  never  told  me  their  names,"  she  added, 
somewhat  perplexed  lest  she  should  divulge  the  secret 
before  she  was  quite  sure  of  the  result. 

"  God  bless  you  for  thinking  of  them !  "  he  said  mus- 
ingly. "  Their  names,"  he  added,  — "  names  that  I 
have  breathed  only  in  prayer,  —  Catherine  and  Stella." 

"  They  are  found !  They  are  here ! "  exclaimed 
Agatha,  fairly  jumping  up  and  down  with  excitement, 
"  Catherine  and  Stella  Ferguson ! " 

"Walton  looked  at  her  a  moment,  with  an  expression 
of  wondering  doubt ;  and  then,  a  deadly  paleness  spread- 
ing over  his  face,  and  beaded  drops  of  sweat  standing 
on  his  forehead,  he  whispered,  "  Agatha,  you  would 
not  trifle  with  my  feelings.  What  can  you  have  heard  ? 
I  must  not  be  disappointed,"  he  added  eagerly.  "  No, 
it  cannot  be,"  he  said,  sinking  back,  fainting,  into  his 
chair. 

Agatha's  composure  returned  with  his  agitation.  She 
told  him  at  once,  in  a  calm,  straightforward  way,  the 
story  of  their  discovery  and  removal  to  Rockridge, 
closing  with  the  account  of  the  two  pictures. 

"  How  unworthy  am   I  of   this    blessing ! "   he   ex- 


THE    DISCOVERY.  259 

claimed,  raising  his  eyes  to  heaven,  —  "  coming,  too,  in 
the  end  of  life  to  soothe  my  last  moments." 

"O  Mr.  Walton!"  said  Agatha,  eagerly,  "you  will 
be  better  now,  you  will  have  such  a  sweet  home,  so 
near  to  all  you  love." 

"  The  ways  of  Providence  how  wonderful ! "  he  re- 
plied. "  God  has  kept  me  here,  in  spite  of  all  my 
uneasy,  restless  longings  to  get  away;  and  all  to  bless 
me  in  the  end  with  blessings  for  which  I  had  hardly 
dared  hope !  But  I  must  go,"  he  said,  rising,  though 
scarce  able  to  stand  ;  "  the  blessing  is  within  my  reach, 
—  I  must  seize  it." 


260  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY, 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

THE  COQUETTE. 

"  Mine  eyes 

Were  not  in  fault,  for  she  was  beautiful; 
Mine  ears,  that  heard  her  flattery;  nor  my  heart, 
That  thought  her  like  her  seeming." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

And  thou,  0  thou  didst  throw- 
That  crushed  affection  back  upon  thy  heart ! " 

MRS.  HEMANS. 

REGORY  CLARENDON  walked  the  customary 
\^M  round  of  duties  after  the  departure  of  his  friends, 
and  endeavored  to  excuse  himself,  as  week  after  week 
went  by  without  a  call  at  General  Winchester's.  But 
his  conscience  waa  not  easily  quieted,  and  one  drizzly 
afternoon  found  him  at  the  door  of  that  hospitable 
mansion.  He  was  well  known,  and  received  by  the 
servants  as  one  of  the  family.  The  door  of  the  break- 
fast-room stood  ajar,  and  he  ventured  to  take  the  lib- 
erty which  he  had  often  done,  of  looking  at  a  fine  old 


THE    COQUETTE.  261 

painting  that  hung  there,  before  joining  the  family  in 
the  library.  He  flattered  himself  he  would  be  more 
genial,  and  better-natured,  for  a  few  moments  spent  in 
communion  with  the  great  artist.  He  gently  pushed 
the  door,  then  drew  back  instantly,  but  not  till  he  had 
been  observed. 

By  the  writing-table  sat  Isabelle,  her  raven  locks 
unbound,  and  flowing  in  long  curls  over  her  neck  and 
shoulders.  Her  dress  was  an  elegant  neglige,  and  her 
tiny  foot  rested  gracefully  on  a  hassock.  The  table 
was  covered  with  dainty  notes  of  many  sizes,  mostly 
sealed  with  wax  of  a  cerulean  tint ;  under  her  right 
hand  was  a  miniature,  and  in  her  left  she  held  an 
open  letter,  which  had  evidently  produced  not  the  most 
pleasing  impression,  for  her  long  lashes  were  heavy 
with  tears. 

"  Come  in,  Mr.  Clarendon,"  she  said,  hastily  wiping 
her  eyes.  "  You  find  me,  like  the  day,  weeping,  and  in 
negligent  attire :  but  I  am  troubled,  and  you  may  be 
able  to  help  me." 

Gregory  came  in  at  her  bidding,  but  did  not  take  a 
seat.  "  If  I  can  help  you,  Mi-s  Isabelle,"  he  said,  "  I 
shall  be  happy  to  do  so,  but  I  must  apologize  for  my 
intrusion." 


262  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"No  apology  is  needed,"  Mr.  Clarendon,  she  replied 
quickly,  "  if  you  will  only  be  seated,  and  exercise  your 
benevolence  on  my  case." 

"  I  fear  yours  is  a  case  that  does  not  come  within 
my  power,"  he  said,  with  a  slight  shade  of  irony  in 
his  tone. 

"If  you  cannot  help  me,"  she  replied,  sadly,  "you 
can  at  least  pity  me.  Read  that!"  she  added,  giving 
him  the  letter  she  held. 

"  Pierre  McLellan ! "  he  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  sur- 
prise as  he  glanced  at  the  signature.  "  Pierre  McLel- 
lan in  New  York ! " 

"  Pierre,  when  you  knew  him,  was  worthier  of  your 
friendship  than  at  present.  But  read,"  she  said,  some- 
what imperiously ;  "  I  am  eager  for  your  advice." 

Gregory  read,  and  the  varying  shadows  that  passed 
over  his  face  were  like  the  reflection  of  the  clouds  on 
the  bosom  of  a  lake  before  a  summer  shower.  He 
finished  his  rapid  reading  without  a  word,  Isabelle 
watching  him  closely,  and  moving  her  foot  impatiently. 

"  And  you  trifled  with  such  affection  as  this ! "  said 
Gregory,  as  he  folded  the  letter  with  a  sigh. 

"No,"    replied    she,    moved    by    his    sorrowful    tone, 


THE    COQUETTE.  263 

"  not  trifled :  he  was  no  more  to  me  than  a  score  of 
others.  But  I  pity  him,"  she  added,  hesitating,  "be- 
cause—  because  he  seems  so  crushed  by  it." 

"Then  you  would  not  utterly  ruin  your  victims," 
said  Clarendon,  sarcastically,  "only  bring  them  very 
near  the  precipice  ! " 

It  was  a  cutting  speech,  and  he  felt  sorry  for  it  as 
it  passed  his  lips.  Isabelle  was  touched,  —  her  face 
flushed  crimson,  and  her  lip  quivered,  as  she  said, 
"  Gregory  Clarendon,  you  despise  me ;  but  am  I  to 
blame,  because  —  to  blame  for  —  " 

"To  blame  only,"  he  replied,  more  kindly,  "for  not 
being  true  to  yourself.  A  true  woman  seeks  not  to 
slay  her  thousands,  but  reserves  the  wealth  of  her  af- 
fections for  one  only." 

"  But  can  we  do  anything  in  this  case  ? "  said  Isa- 
belle, earnestly  wishing  to  impress  upon  Gregory  her 
desire  to  retrieve  the  consequences  of  her  coquetry. 
"  Can  anything  be  done  for  poor  Pierre  ? " 

"  I  must  look  him  up,"  he  said,  gravely ;  "  the  poor 
fellow  must  be  strangely  broken  down  to  write  thus ; 
his  mind  is  evidently  shattered." 

"You  will  hardly  find  him  in  any  respectable  place; 


264  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

he  has  lost  caste  completely,"  said  Isabelle,  "and  I  beg 
you  will  not  again  expose  yourself  to  danger.  What 
would  my  brothers  say,  if  they  knew  that  he  presumed 
to  send  me  this?"  she  added,  passing  the  miniature. 

Gregory  took  it  in  silence.  Yes,  there  was  Pierre, — 
the  same  delicately  pencilled  features,  the  same  rla>-u- 
head,  the  same  speaking  mouth ;  and  this  man,  honor- 
able, devout,  —  this  thoughtful,  generous  friend,  —  wa* 
transformed,  by  the  siren  smile  of  the  coquette,  into  a 
weak,  passionate  man,  lost  to  self-respect,  and  to  the 
respect  and  confidence  of  others.  The  letter  told  the 
tale.  He  had  met  his  charmer  in  New  Orleans,  and 
she  with  her  peerless  beauty  had  fascinated  him.  The 
passion,  nourished  in  his  heart  by  months  of  intimate 
intercourse  in  the  sunny  South,  had  so  completely  un- 
manned him,  as  to  render  him  only  an  object  of  pity. 

"  I  will  seek  him,  till  I  find,"  said  Gregory  ear- 
nestly. "  He  endeavors  to  drown  in  dissipation  the  re- 
membrance of  the  past ;  but  you  see  by  his  letter  his 
heart  is  not  in  it.  Pierre  I  must  find ! "  he  added,  as 
he  rose  to  go. 

Isabelle  held  his  hand  in  parting,  and  said  in  her 
sweetest  tone,  and  with  real  emotion :  "  Don't  peril 


THE    COQUETTE.  265 

yourself,  Mr.  Clarendon ;  I  am  grateful  for  your  as- 
sistance, but  I  shall  feel  continually  anxious  if  you  put 
yourself  in  such  company."  Her  beaming  eyes  were 
fixed  full  upon  him,  and  as  she  spoke,  large  tears 
dropped  slowly. 

Gregory  was  forced  to  reply,  "Thank  you,  Miss 
Isabelle,  but  my  former  misadventure  has  made  me 
so  notorious,  that  it  would  be  unwise  to  try  tricks 
upon  me.  You  need  fear  nothing,"  he  added,  as  she 
again  pressed  his  hand,  and  renewed  her  thanks. 

General  "Winchester's  family  were  taken  by  surprise, 
when  Isabelle  informed  them  at  tea,  that  Mr.  Claren- 
don had  spent  the  afternoon  alone  with  her  in  the 
breakfast-room. 

"  Ha !  sister  mine,"  said  her  brother  Duncan,  "  I 
congratulate  you  more  than  all  on  this  conquest:  the 
siege  has  been  equal  to  that  of  Troy.  But  I  've  no 
patience  with  the  cold  dignity  of  this  sprig  of  divinity." 

"  Probably  because  he  treats  you  with  such  silent 
contempt,"  said  Isabelle. 

"Or  his  meddlesome  interference  with  the  little  Ag- 
atha," said  his  brother. 

With  Gregory,  a  subject  of  particular  interest  was 
12 


266  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

always  so  absorbing  as  to  drive  all  little  things  from 
his  mind,  and  he  soon  forgot,  in  the  intensity  of  his 
desire  to  help  his  friend,  the  peculiar  look  and  tone 
of  Isabelle  at  their  last  meeting. 

His  nature  too  had  been  chastened  and  subdued  by 
a  power  beyond  himself,  and  he  had  learned  to  ad- 
mire earnest  well-doing,  better  than  the  most  brilliant 
charms.  Nevertheless,  she  had  played  her  game  well, 
and  the  strong  desire  she  had  expressed  to  help  Pierre 
had  left  the  impression  on  his  mind  that  she  was  not 
altogether  heartless. 


PIERRE    McLELLAN.  267 


CHAPTER    XXXIY. 

PIERRE   McLELLAN. 

"To  raise  the  devil  were  an  infant's  task 
To  that  of  raising  man." 

"  Some  souls  lose  all  but  the  love  of  beauty, 
And  by  that  they  are  redeemable; 
For  in  love  and  beauty  they  acknowledge  good, 
And  good  is  God." 

FESTUS. 

finO  FIND  McLellan,  and  to  rescue  him  from  a  life 
I  of  degradation,  was  now  the  earnest  wish  of  Clar- 
endon. His  first  step  was  to  obtain  the  assistance  of  the 
police.  Many  notorious  gambling-houses  were  visited, 
and  weeks  passed  without  any  success.  Clarendon  was 
ready  to  believe  that  Pierre  must  have  left  New  York. 
He  had  written  to  him  urging  him  to  come  to  his 
lodgings,  but  had  received  no  reply.  At  length,  the 
search  was  successful :  the  officers  of  justice  had  made 
a  descent  upon  a  notorious  gambling-saloon,  and  cap- 


268  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

tured  several  of  the  occupants,  among  whom  was  a 
young  man  answering  to  Clarendon's  description  of 
McLellan. 

Gregory  proceeded  to  the  station-house,  and  there  dis- 
covered his  former  friend,  the  same,  and  yet  changed. 
He  had  won  largely  during  the  evening,  and  there  was 
a  fiendish  glance  of  triumph  in  his  brilliant  eye;  but 
Gregory,  with  the  far-reaching  penetration  of  a  friend, 
read  misery  in  those  compressed  lips,  and  clutching 
fingers.  How  utterly  useless  for  a  moment  did  all 
efforts  of  man  for  his  guilty  brother  appear  to  Claren- 
don, as  he  gazed  upon  one  he  had  once  regarded  with 
the  respect  of  friendship,  now  bound  and  led  captive 
by  a  deadly  vice ! 

At  the  sight  of  Gregory,  the  countenance  of  Pierre 
changed,  the  wild  eye  and  impatient  gesture  gave  way 
to  a  look  of  mingled  remorse  and  despair.  It  was  with 
some  difficulty  that  Clarendon  persuaded  the  young 
man  to  accompany  him;  but  the  earnest  heart  and 
strong  will  prevailed,  and  together  they  went  to  Greg- 
ory's rooms.  Clarendon  led  his  companion  at  once  to 
his  bedchamber,  bidding  him  rest,  assuring  him  that 
he  was  too  wearied  to  talk  that  night ;  and  returned 


PIERRE    McLELLAN.  269 

himself  to  his  study.  Several  letters  had  been  brought 
in  during  his  absence.  He  glanced  hastily  at  them, 
and  they  were  laid  by  with  one  exception,  a  letter 
from  home,  —  the  superscription  was  Agatha's.  It  must 
be  owned,  however,  that  he  paused  a  moment  over  a 
daintily  perfumed  note,  sealed  with  blue,  and  then,  with 
the  slightest  possible  curl  of  the  upper  lip,  accompanied 
with  the  play  of  a  lurking  smile,  he  placed  it  with  the 
others,  and,  breaking  the  seal  of  Agatha's,  read  as  fol- 
lows :  — 

"ROCKBIDGE,  March,  18 — . 
"DEAK,  DARLING  COUSIN:  — 

"I  know  you  will  be  delighted,  when  I  tell  you 
that  the  Fergusons  are  Robert's  relations.  I  wish  you 
were  here  to  see  how  happy  they  are.  You  laugh  at 
me  for  weeping  so  easily ;  but  we  should  have  seen 
your  tears,  I  know,  if  you  could  have  been  present 
when  dear  old  Mr.  Ferguson,  who  always  makes  mo 
think  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  folded  Robert  in 
his  arms  and  cried  over  him  for  joy.  Catherine  was 
calm  as  a  summer  morning.  I  told  cousin  Nora,  she 
would  make  you  a  good  wife;  you  liked  calm  people." 
(Here  Gregory  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  smiled.) 


270  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  Cousin  told  me,  I  must  never  pick  out  husbands  and 
wives  for  persons,  but  let  them  make  their  own  choice ; 
and  then  she  gave  me  a  lecture,  —  no,  not  a  lecture, 
a  talk,  about  proper  subjects  of  thought  and  conversa- 
tion. I  told  it  over  to  Stella  Ferguson  afterwards, 
and  she  said  it  ought  to  be  printed.  I  love  Stella, 
dearly,  —  better  than  anybody  but  you  and  Cousin 
Nora.  When  I  look  into  her  eyes,  it  seems  as  if 
I  was  looking  right  into  a  fresh  violet.  And  I  hope 
uncle  will  not  forbid  my  going  with  her,  when  he 
comes  home. 

"  Brother  Chauncey,  who  has  grown  very  odd  and 
sober,  told  me  to-day,  that  he  had  purchased  the  old 
farm-house  covered  with  woodbine  that  stands  on  the 
brink  of  Oak  Bay.  He  will  have  no  more  to  do  with 
uncle,  and  means  to  leave  Maple  Cliff  next  week. 

"  The  Judge  and  his  wife  are  to  keep  house  for 
him.  I  laughed  at  him  about  his  choice  of  company; 
he  said,  he  did  not  wish  anybody  he  must  entertain. 

"I  expect  to  see  you  frown,  when  you  hear  how 
disrespectful  I  was  to  Mr.  Clement  yesterday.  Your 
father  laughed,  because  I  said,  he  was  like  Miss  Mor- 
gan, and  I  wished  he  would  marry  her,  so  that  uncle 


PIERRE    McLELLAN.  271 

need  not  ask  her  back  to  teach  me.  I  was  sorry 
afterwards,  because  it  grieved  Cousin  Nora.  What  a 
foolish  little-girl  letter  I  am  writing!  but  you  told  me 
to  write  just  as  I  would  like. 

"  Papsy  comes  to  see  Cousin  Nora  often ;  she  is  not 
as  she  used  to  be.  Mr.  Clement  has  christened  her 
baby,  and  she  and  Rosa  and  Chet  are  to  be  baptized 
Easter  even. 

"I  hope  you  will  be  here  at  Easter. 

"  This  long  sheet  is  filled,  mostly  with  nonsense. 
Have  I  worn  out  your  patience  ? 

"Your  affectionate  little 

"  AGGIE." 

"  Worn  out  my  patience !  no  indeed,  darling,"  said 
Gregory,  as  he  closed  the  letter ;  "  there  is  something 
reviving  in  the  freshness  of  your  thoughts."  He  took 
up  the  pretty,  dainty  note,  and,  carefully  opening  it, 
read:  — 

"Nzw  YORK,  Tuesday  Eve. 
"  MY  DEAR  MR.  CLARENDON  :  — 
"I  am  so  anxious  for  the  effects  of  my  imprudence 
in  exposing  you  to  danger,  that  I  beg  you  will   report 


272  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

yourself  soon  at  my  father's,  and  relieve  my  anxiety, 
which  last  night  would  not  suffer  me  to  sleep. 
"Very  truly  yours, 

"  ISABELLE." 

"I  shall  take  care  of  the  victim  first,"  he  said,  as 
he  heard  a  groan  from  the  adjoining  room,  at  the  same 
time  indignantly  throwing  the  note  into  the  fire. 

In  the  morning  interview  with  the  broken-down 
Pierre,  Clarendon  learned  from  his  own  mouth  the 
course  of  his  temptation  and  fall.  To  remove  his 
stricken  friend  from  the  scenes  of  his  guilt  and  the 
object  of  his  affections,  was  the  first  thing  to  be  done. 
Gregory  looked  upon  him  as  an  insane  person ;  and  his 
sunken  eye,  and  the  nervous  twitching  of  his  fingers, 
showed  the  absence  of  accustomed  stimulants.  Where 
could  he  be  sheltered  and  cared  for,  till  the  balance 
of  his  mind  could  be  restored  ? 

Like  the  vision  of  a  sure  haven  of  rest,  away  from 
temptation,  came  the  farm-house  of  Chauncey  Douglass. 
Bachelor's  hall,  too !  It  was  not  many  days  before 
that  gentleman  answered  a  summons  from  Clarendon, 
by  appearing  at  his  rooms  in  New  York.  The  plau 


PIERRE    McLELLAN.  273 

was  talked  over  together,  and  in  the  presence  of  Pierre, 
he  only  begging  that  Clarendon  "would  not  leave  him 
alone." 

Chauncey  consented  to  receive  him  as  an  inmate  at 
the  farm-house,  provided  he  was  in  no  way  accountable 
for  his  well-doing.  Books,  fishing  and  hunting  appa- 
ratus, drawings,  and  music,  were  provided  for  the  young 
man ;  and  Clarendon  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  him 
depart  with  Chauncey,  —  all  having  agreed  that  a  pro- 
found silence  should  be  maintained  about  him,  and 
Douglass  insisting  that  he  would  consider  him  as  his 
friend  "  De  Lue." 

During  his  next  call  on  Miss  Winchester,  Clarendon 
took  occasion  to  tell  her  that  Pierre  was  in  a  safe 
place,  and  doing  well ;  politely  evading  all  her  inqui- 
ries as  to  his  whereabouts. 


12* 


274  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTEE    XXXV. 

SELF-CONQUEST. 

"  Wilt  thou  find  rest  in  thy  returning 

To  that  old  path  thou  hast  so  vainly  trod  ? 
Hast  thou  forgotten  all  thy  weary  yearning 
To  walk  among  the  children  of  thy  God  ?  " 

IT  WAS  midsummer,  and  the  hot  breath  of  the 
steaming  city  gave  Clarendon  a  longing  for  the 
cool  breezes  of  his  Highland  home ;  and  he  was  to 
leave  town  to-morrow.  He  must  first  do  his  father's 
bidding,  which  he  had  already  deferred  too  long,  and 
renew  the  invitation  to  the  Winchesters  to  pass  a 
month  at  Rockridge  during  the  season.  He  blamed 
himself  that  he  could  not  give  the  invitation  heartily ; 
sadly  ungentlemanly  and  unhospitable  was  it  in  him, 
but  he  did  begrudge  the  quiet  walks  with  Honora,  and 
the  refreshing  converse  of  Agatha,  which  he  knew  he 
must  renounce  during  their  stay.  He  could  not  but 
be  relieved  when  the  invitation  was  accepted  for  the 


SELF-CONQUEST.  275 

month  of  August,  and  not  immediately.  He  found 
on  his  return  home  that  Mr.  Douglass  had  taken  no 
step  to  recall  Miss  Morgan,  and  Agatha  and  some  half- 
dozen  girls  of  her  age,  among  whom  was  Stella  Fer- 
guson, were  pupils  of  Mr.  Clement.  There  had  sprung 
up  between  these  two,  Aggie  and  Stella,  one  of  those 
girlish  friendships,  of  which  earth  offers  no  equal  for 
perfect  confiding  trust  and  love;  and  the  arrangement 
was  perfectly  delightful  to  them.  Agatha  stood  per- 
haps more  hi  awe  of  her  teacher  than  of  any  other 
human  being;  and  now  that  he  assisted  her  progress 
in  intellectual  knowledge,  a  distant  friendship  was 
growing  daily  between  them.  There  had  been  no 
tune  of  trial.  Fond  of  study,  and  quite  as  urgent 
to  progress  as  her  instructor  was  to  put  her  forward, 
she  had  as  yet  received  no  reproof. 

It  happened,  one  bright  day  in  July,  that  Gregory 
walked  out,  designing  to  meet  Agatha  on  her  return 
from  school.  He  was  blessing  his  ancestors  for  the 
double  row  of  elms  that  shaded  the  street  of  Rock- 
ridge,  when  Mr.  Clement  came  out  of  the  Rectory 
gate.  The  gentlemen  greeted  each  other,  and  Clar- 
endon inquired  for  Agatha. 


276  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MAEY. 

The  clergyman's  face  wore  a  perplexed  and  grave 
expression,  as  he  said :  "I  am  sorry  to  say  that  Miss 
Agatha  is  in  disgrace.  She  has  displeased  me  exceed- 
ingly, and  the  matter  has  gone  so  far,  that  I  must 
either  give  up  my  authority,  or  —  resort  to  severer 
measures ;  probably  expel  her  from  school." 

Gregory  did  not  speak  for  a  moment ;  at  length  he 
said :  "  Mr.  Clement,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  grieved 
I  am  for  you  in  this  trial ;  and  for  this  child,"  he 
added.  "  May  I  ask  the  nature  of  her  fault,  making 
my  interest  in  her  an  excuse  for  the  question  ? " 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Clement.  "  This  morning, 
during  the  recitations  of  the  second  class,  I  looked  at 
Agatha,  and  found  she  was  reading  instead  of  study- 
ing ;  this  is  a  breach  of  the  rules  of  the  school.  I 
requested  her  to  bring  me  the  volume.  She  hesitated, 
till  I  repeated  my  request  for  the  third  time.  She 
then  arose,  and,  with  a  violent  ebullition  of  proud 
temper,  threw  the  volume  on  my  desk.  It  was  a 
book  written  with  modern  infidelity  on  every  page. 
Had  she  given  me  the  volume  in  a  quiet  way,  3 
should  not  have  spoken  of  it  before  the  school  ;  as 
it  was,  I  told  her  at  once  that  I  must  forbid  her 


SELF-CONQUEST.  277 

reading  it  at  any  time.  She  was  exceedingly  angry, 
answering  me  very  impertinently,  and  positively  refus- 
ing to  study  or  recite.  I  did  not  dismiss  her  with  the 
young  ladies,  but  have  just  finished  a  conversation 
with  her,  that  has  had  no  more  effect  than  if  I  had 
spoken  to  the  wind ;  while  her  friend  Stella  was 
drowned  in  sorrow,  begging  her  to  submit,  urging  her 
to  apologize.  She  must  give  up  this  will,  or  I  shall 
send  her  home,  not  to  come  back  without  a  public 


"  You  are  right,  Mr.  Clement,"  said  Gregory,  in  a 
sorrowful  tone.  "  Agatha  will  yet  mourn  over  this 
burst  of  passion  with  a  bitterness  that  will  be  as  great 
as  her  temper  has  been  violent.  If  you  had  known 
her  when  she  came  to  Maple  Cliff,  you  would  see  how 
much  she  has  gained  in  self-control  in  the  last  year 
and  a  half.  She  was  a  perfect  little  firebrand,  ready 
to  light  and  blaze  at  the  least  spark." 

"  She  has  had  kind  friends,"  replied  the  clergyman, 
"  in  Miss  Clarendon,  Miss  Morgan,  and  yourself." 

The  gentlemen  had  walked  together  during  the 
conversation,  and  now  stood  at  the  entrance  of  the 
Gorge. 


278  THE     CHAPEL     OF     ST.     MARY. 

"  You  know  this  little  miss  better  than  I  do,  Clar- 
endon," said  Mr.  Clement.  "  Do  you  think  she  will 
be  more  likely  to  return  to  her  duty,  if  I  keep  her 
where  she  is,  or  send  her  home  ?  " 

"  Send  her  home,  by  all  means  !  "  replied  Clarendon. 
"  Liberty  is  necessary  that  she  may  fully  realize  her 
position." 

They  parted  again  at  the  Rectory  gate,  Clarendon 
going  towards  home.  He  knew  that  Agatha,  in  her 
present  state,  would  soon  overtake  him.  It  was  not 
many  minutes  before  he  heard  the  light,  quick  step. 
He  turned  and  took  her  hand  ;  instinctively  she  felt 
that  he  knew  all.  Neither  spoke  till  they  came  to  the 
entrance  gate  at  Woodland  Bluff,  when  Gregory  led 
her  gently  to  a  garden  chair  in  the  thicket  of  shrub- 
bery. 

"  Tell  me  all,"  he  said,  drawing  her  towards  him. 

She  did  not  once  raise  her  eyes  to  his,  as  she  went 
through  the  story  in  a  low,  determined  tone,  blaming 
Mr.  Clement  in  the  severest  manner  for  taking  a  book 
from  her  that  her  uncle  had  given  her  to  read.  She 
had  learned  her  lessons,  and  was  disturbing  no  one. 
"  And  now,"  she  added  in  the  close,  "  he  wishes  me 


SELF-CONQUEST.  279 

to  apologize !  Apologize !  That  is  something  I  will 
never  —  " 

"  Stay,  Agatha,"  said  Gregory,  placing  his  finger  on 
her  lips.  "  Your  tongue  is  impelled  by  a  rebellious 
spirit.  Look  me  in  the  face  as  you  used  to  do,  and 
I  can  soon  tell  how  much  of  what  you  say  is  indeed 
the  real  sentiment  of  your  heart,  and  what  is  the  re- 
sult of  anger  and  wounded  pride.  Agatha,"  he  added, 
more  gravely,  "it  is  long  since  you  have  had  such  a 
test  of  the  earnestness'  with  which  you  struggle  with 
self.  How  I  wish  you  would  let  me  help  you ! " 

She  made  no  reply,  and  a  long  silence  ensued.  At 
length  Gregory  spoke  :  — 

"Poor  wandering  soul!    1  know  that  thou  art  seeking 
Some  easier  way,  as  all  have  sought  before, 
To  silence  the  reproachful  inward  speaking, 
Some  landward  path  unto  an  island  shore. 

The  cross  is  heavy  in  thy  human  measure, 
The  way  too  narrow  for  thy  inward  pride." 

He  paused  in  his  repeating,  for  her  head  had  sunk 
upon  his  arm,  and  she  was  weeping.  He  did  not  seek 
to  restrain  her  tears,  but  led  her  backward  to  past 
resolutions,  and  forward  to  new  hopes. 

"Dear   Cousin  Gregory,"  she  said,  still  sobbing,    "I 


280  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

shall  never  conquer !  What  shall  I  do  ?  What  can 
I  do?" 

"  Do  you  really  wish  me  to  tell  you  how  you  may 
conquer  ? "  he  said.  "  Perhaps  I  shall  require  more 
than  you  will  consent  to  perform.  Do  you  still  wish 
me  to  tell  you,  dear  ?  " 

She  gave  a  token  of  assent. 

"  Raise  your  head,  then,  and  rest  it  here,"  he  said, 
laying  his  hand  on  his  shoulder,  "  and  I  can  talk  with 
you." 

"  No,  no,"  she  replied  in  a  despairing  voice.  "  I 
shall  never  be  —  I  am  not  worthy  to  look  up." 

"  Worthiness,  Agatha,  is  not  for  us  mortals,"  he  said, 
raising  her  head  by  his  superior  strength,  till  it  rested 
where  he  wished.  "You  ask  me  to  tell  you,  then, 
what  I  think  you  should  do  ;  how  you  may  conquer 
this  enemy  of  your  peace,"  he  said,  looking  for  the 
first  time  into  the  depths  of  those  brown  eyes.  "  Your 
first  object,  my  child,  will  be  to  recall  the  gentle  Dove, 
who  had  begun  to  nestle  in  your  heart,  and  who  is 
driven  away  by  passion,  pride,  and  wilfulness.  Hum- 
ble yourself  deeply  and  entirely  before  God.  You  can 
never  be  sure,  however,  that  the  wilful  spirit  is  sub- 


SELF-CONQUEST.  281 

dued,  till  you  are  ready  and  desirous  to  humble  your- 
self before  your  justly  offended  fellow-man.  I  would 
advise  that  you  see  Mr.  Clement  ere  you  sleep.  Try 
to  realize  your  relations  to  him,  your  duty  to  submit 
to  his  authority,  not  only  as  your  teacher,  but  your 
spiritual  pastor.  It  is  due  to  Mr.  Clement  that  you 
should  freely  confess  to  him  your  sorrow  and  shame, 
—  of  course,  I  know  you  will  say  nothing  that  you  do 
not  really  feel,  —  and  then  you  are  to  submit  willingly 
to  any  punishment  he  may  appoint  for  your  offence. 
Can  you  do  all  this,  Agatha  ?  " 

"I  will  try,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  followed  by 
a  deep  sigh. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  child,"  he  replied.  "  Be  sure, 
if  you  do  all  this,  you  will,  in  time,  come  off  conqueror 
of  yourself,  by  the  grace  of  God,  through  Him  that 
loves  us." 

One  hour  before  sunset  found  Agatha  at  the  Rec- 
tory. Mr.  Clement  was  out,  but  she  resolutely  re- 
solved to  wait  his  return.  He  was  deeply  touched 
by  the  ingenuous  sorrow  of  her  repentance,  and  the 
earnest  simplicity  with  which  she  sought  his  forgive- 


282  THE    CHAPEL     OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  My  daughter,"  he  said,  affectionately,  "  you  are 
fully  and  freely  forgiven,  and  I  wish  it  was  in  my 
power  wholly  to  remit  your  punishment" 

"  No,  sir,"  she  replied  quickly,  struggling  with  her 
feelings.  "My  offence  was  public,  and  I  feel  that  my 
apology  should  be  the  same." 

"I  will  make  it  for  you,  Agatha,"  he  said,  much 
affected;  "and  I  feel,  my  dear  child,  that  this  will  be 
the  only  time  I  shall  be  called  to  fulfil  so  painful  a 
duty  for  you.  You  will  be  helped  by  a  Divine  power, 
if  you  persevere  in  the  course  you  have  commenced." 

He  then  talked  with  her  affectionately  of  the  path 
of  the  Christian's  life,  and  of  the  many  helps  he  has, 
that  are  nowhere  promised  to  those  who  will  not 
seek  the  appointed  means  of  grace. 

Having  prayed  with  her,  and  given  her  his  blessing, 
she  departed,  half  resolved  at  once  to  overcome  her 
scruples,  and  seek  admittance  into  the  fold  of  the 
Church. 


THE    MASTER    OF    MAPLE    CLIFF.          283 


CHAPTER    XXXYI. 

THE  MASTER  OF  MAPLE   CLIFF. 

"  His  days  are  spent 

In  chaining  down  his  heart,  and  watching  when 
To  rise  by  human  weaknesses.     His  nights 
Bring  him  no  rest,  in  all  their  blessed  hours." 

WILLIS. 

MR.  DOUGLASS,  occupied,  as  lie  had  been  the 
year  past,  in  the  gayeties  of  foreign  and  city 
life,  could  not  readily  settle  down  into  the  old  hum- 
drum course  he  led  during  Mrs.  Douglass's  days.  There 
was,  besides,  a  fearful  reckoning  going  on  in  his  own 
conscience,  and  solitude  was  unendurable.  To  drown 
thought,  he  had  contracted  a  wonderful  intimacy  with 
Tom  Ridgway.  The  young  lawyer  had  rendered  him 
valuable  service  in  establishing  his  claim  to  the  prop- 
erty in  Scotland.  The  Italian  villa,  too,  rested  on  the 
slope  between  Maple  Cliff  and  the  village,  and  Tom's 
wife  was  agreeable  company.  Thus  it  came  to  pass,  that 


284  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

Mr.  Douglass,  who  had  kept  himself  aloof  from  every- 
thing at  Rockridge,  found  congenial  society  in  a  family 
whom  he  had  previously  despised. 

The  room  occupied  by  his  wife  he  had  never  en- 
tered since  his  return.  There  were  papers  there  that 
should  be  examined,  but  Mr.  Douglass  was  a  coward, 
and  feared  to  meet  the  rebuke  of  the  departed. 

Now  and  then  the  idea  of  a  second  marriage  flitted 
across  his  mind,  but  his  good  sense  told  him  that  money 
could  be  the  only  object  of  such  a  union  with  him. 
At  times  he  meditated  the  recall  of  Papsy  to  his  lonely 
and  desolate  home,  that  he  might  have  one  over  whom 
he  could  exercise  unlimited  authority.  But,  unprincipled 
as  he  was,  he  would  not  risk  a  renewal  of  Agatha's 
intimacy  with  one  who  had  proved  herself  so  weak. 
With  regard  to  Papsy's  having  become  religious,  he 
ridiculed  the  idea,  as  he  did  all  Mr.  Clement's  efforts 
for  the  Gorge  and  its  inhabitants. 

The  master  at  Maple  Cliff  sat  smoking  in  the  library, 
one  August  morning,  with  his  friend  Ridgway.  He 
wn*  mourning  with  that  gentleman  the  dulness  of 
country  life,  when  Agatha  came  running  in  from  the 
greenhouse,  almost  wild  with  delight,  exclaiming.  "They 


THE    MASTER    OF    MAPLE    CLIFF.         285 

are  coming!  they  are  coming!  I  saw  the  carriage 
driving  into  "Woodland  Bluff!  I  am  so  glad!"  And 
she  skipped  up  to  her  uncle,  and  asked,  "Are  not 
you  glad,  that  the  beautiful  and  brilliant  Isabelle,  and 
her  gay  brothers,  are  come  to  town  ? " 

"Yes  indeed,"  he  replied,  more  heartily  than  usuaL 
"There's  a  woman  worth  looking  at,  Tom,"  he  added, 
at  the  same  time  casting  a  glance  at  the  mirror,  that 
reflected  a  fine  set  of  teeth,  and  aided  him  in  adjust- 
ing his  black  wig. 

"Agatha,  my  daughter,"  he  continued,  "a  part  of 
the  Winchesters'  visit,  of  course,  will  be  with  us.  Do 
you  feel  competent  to  do  the  honors  of  the  house?" 

"  O,  uncle ! "  she  replied,  looking  towards  Ridgway, 
as  if  she  wished  him  at  home.  "  If  you  would  let 
Stella  Ferguson  come  and  stay  with  me,  we  could 
manage  beautifully.  She  knows  how  to  do  all  sorts 
of  things!" 

"  Stella  Ferguson ! "  said  her  uncle ;  "  pray  who  is 
she?  I  heard  Clarendon  speaking  of  the  Fergusons. 
Where  do  they  live  ?  For  my  part  I  have  lost  the 
run  of  the  comers  and  goers  in  Rockridge.  There's 
that  friend  of  Chauncey's,"  he  continued,  addressing 


286  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

Ridgway,  "I  never  heard  of  him  till  yesterday.  De 
Lue  did  you  say  was  his  name?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Ridgway,  rising  to  go.  "  Rather  cracked 
here,"  he  added,  putting  his  hand  to  his  heart.  "I'll 
bring  that  dog  up  to-morrow,"  he  said,  as  he  closed 
the  door. 

"Ferguson!  Ferguson!"  said  Mr.  Douglass,  looking 
uneasily  at  Agatha.  "  Where  did  this  family  come 
*rom?  What  do  you  know  about  them,  child?" 

Agatha  felt  a  little  vexed  by  her  uncle's  tone  and 
manner,  and  disinclined  to  continue  the  conversation. 
But  he  persisted  in  knowing  all,  and  presently  she  had 
given  him  the  information. 

"Then  Gregory  Clarendon  imported  them  from  the 
streets  of  New  York!"  said  Mr.  Douglass,  in  a  tone 
of  bitter  sarcasm.  "The  young  man  might  have  been 
in  better  business!  But  it  is  clear,  child,  from  your 
account,  that  they  are  not  people  I  should  choose  for 
your  associates.  As  you  are  alone,  I  am  willing  you 
should  have  this  girl  here  occasionally,  but  I  am  not 
willing,"  he  added,  raising  his  voice  authoritatively, 
"that  you  should  visit  them,  and  mix  with  such  low 
people ! " 


THE    MASTER    OF    MAPLE    CLIFF.         287 

"  Low  people ! "  said  Agatha,  rising  haughtily,  and 
stamping  her  little  foot,  while  her  eyes  flashed  with 
the  anger  that  threatened  to  overcome  her;  but  the 
next  instant  she  sunk  upon  the  sofa,  and  bowed  her 
face  in  her  hands.  Mr.  Douglass  retired  at  once, — 
a  weeping  woman  he  could  never  endure.  Agatha 
was  V5ry  angry  ;  it  did  seem  cruel,  very  cruel,  to 
deprive  her  thus  of  the  society  she  so  much  loved. 
It  was  unjust,  too  !  "  The  Fergusons  low  people  !  " 
The  expression  would  rise  continually.  Hours  after, 
when  her  uncle  sent  for  her  to  call  on  the  Winches- 
ters, she  overcame  the  pride  and  rebellion  that  would 
have  bid  her  decline  the  walk,  and  went  out  to  meet 
him  with  a  smile. 

Cordially  were  the  "Winchesters  welcomed  at  Wood- 
land Bluff  and  Maple  Cliff.  Tired  of  admiration, 
wearied  with  a  continual  round  of  hangers-on,  Isabelle 
was  now  where  in  her  heart  she  had  long  wished  to 
be.  The  unsubdued  human  affections  reach  out  often 
for  that  which  is  beyond  their  reach.  Isabelle,  with 
scores  of  lovers  at  her  feet,  turned  with  an  unresisted 
yearning  toward  one  who  had  come  within  the 
charmed  circle  of  her  witchery,  and  gone  free.  Now 


288  THE     CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

she  was  under  the  same  roof.  Intimate  intercourse 
would  follow,  and  she  must  succeed.  With  her 
fortune,  she  could  place  th-  object  of  her  choice 
in  an  elevated  position  ;  without  her,  he  would  prob- 
ably be  only  a  country  clergyman,  of  very  limited 
means.  Thus  and  thus  did  she  meditate,  as  she 
went  to  rest  in  the  oval  chamber  in  "Woodland 
Cottage. 

Mr.  Douglass's  thoughts,  after  he  had  retired  for  the 
night,  arranged  themselves  somewhat  in  this  form  : 
"  Now  I  will  make  my  plans.  To-day  has  convinced 
me  that  Duncan  Winchester  is  really  charmed  with 
Agatha.  I  suspected  it  before.  I  must  find  employ- 
ment for  the  other  brother,  —  three  spoil  love-making. 
Stella  Ferguson  !  —  I  don't  like  the  name.  Agatha 
says  she  is  well-bred  ;  I  will  bring  her  here  for  these 
few  weeks.  General  Winchester  will  hardly  thank  me 
for  introducing  his  son  ;  however,  a  flirtation  will  not 
hurt  him.  Yes,  Agatha  is  very  young,  but  she  and 
Duncan  would  make  a  pretty  couple  ;  the  two  for- 
tunes, ^ — they  would  be  immensely  rich.  They, might 
marry  after  an  engagement  of  a  year  or  more,  and  I 
could  take  them  the  tour  of  Europe.  Agatha  gave 


THE   MASTEB    OF    MAPLE    CLIFF.          289 

up  finely  to-day  ;  she  is  getting  subdued.  I  '11  bring 
this  girl  Stella  here  to-morrow  ;  visiting  the  Fergu- 
sons need  not  follow.  She  said  they  were  English. 
She  was  Scotch,  but  then  her  brother  Frank  married 
an  English  girl.  How  she  begged  me  to  look  after 
them.  The  papers  would  shed  light  on  his  age. 
What  if  this  old  man  is  her  brother,  turned  up  under 
my  nose?  Why  should  I  trouble  myself?  No,  I'll 
help  these  pleasant  people  enjoy  themselves.  I  don't 
like  all  this  drilling  the  child  Agatha  into  religion. 
This  Clement  —  impertinent  fool  !  —  to  advise  me 
about  her  reading,  as  if  I  intended  to  help  him  and 
Clarendon  make  the  child  believe  something  I  don't 
believe  myself.  Isabelle  is  splendid  !  If  I  was  only 
twenty  years  younger,  I  'd  defy  Clarendon  and  his 
aspirations.  Ridgway !  nice,  clever  fellow,  drinks  good 
brandy,  and  smokes  fine  cigars,  and  has  a  mighty 
charming  wife ;  but  these  boring  sisters  of  his !  How 
I  do  hate  low  people  !  I  wish  that  brat  of  Paps/s 
would  die,  —  I  'd  do  something  for  the  girl.  She  used 

to   say I  wonder  what  she   said   when  she   was 

dying.      Hush  !    what  noise  ?      How  foolish,  nothing  ! 
Hush  !   I  hear  her  cat-like  step.     There  it  is  again  ! 
13  8 


290  THE     CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

I    was   cruel  !      Good    God  !    what    is    it  ?      This    is 
dreadful !     I  will  strike  a  light." 

Thus  hour  after  hour  of  darkness  went  by,  and  but 
little  rest  came  to  the  soul  of  tiie  miserable  man. 
By  day,  the  proud,  domineering  worldling  ;  by  night, 
the  coward  sinner,  anticipating  his  doom. 


THE    SERENADE.  291 


CHAPTER    XXXYII. 

THE  SERENADE. 

1  How  beautiful  is  all  this  visible  world! 
How  glorious  in  its  action  and  itself! 
But  we  who  name  ourselves  its  sovereigns,  we 
Half  dust,  half  deity,  alike  unfit 
To  sink  or  soar,  with  our  mixed  essence,  make 
A  conflict  of  its  elements,  and  breathe 
The  breath  of  degradation  and  of  pride." 


BTKON. 


A  SERVANT  was  despatched  with  a  note  from 
Agatha,  inviting  Stella  to  pass  the  vacation  at 
Maple  Cliff.  Her  friends,  innocent  of  any  suspicions 
of  Mr.  Douglass's  motives,  gladly  gave  their  consent. 
At  the  same  time,  this  gentleman  very  hospitably  urged 
the  superior  accommodations  of  Maple  Cliff,  and  the 
society  of  the  young  ladies,  as  a  reason  why  the  Win- 
chester brothers  should  make  his  house  their  home  dur- 
ing the  visit:  this  invitation  was  also  accepted. 

Gregory  and  Honora  were  annoyed  by  this  arrange- 


292  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

ment.  They  considered  Agatha  as  a  child,  but  saw  that, 
in  the  present  plan,  Mr.  Douglass  had  thoughts  of  his 
child's  future.  She  would  be  thrown  into  daily,  hourly 
companionship  with  a  person  upon  whom  they  had 
no  doubt  her  uncle  looked  as  her  future  husband,  but 
in  whom  they  could  only  see  a  frivolous,  half-educated, 
fashionable  young  man.  They  regarded  her  as  entirely 
too  young  to  think  of  so  near  a  relation  with  any  one. 
Mr.  Douglass's  plan  succeeded  to  a  charm,  so  far  as 
pairing  off  the  young  people.  Stella,  two  years  older 
than  Agatha,  much  taller  and  larger,  gentle  in  her  man- 
ners, and  very  lovely,  was  an  interesting  companion  for 
Dudley ;  while  Duncan,  in  his  first  flush  of  manhood, 
was  really  enamored  with  the  bright  brown  eyes  and 
roguish  look  that  continually  thwarted  all  his  attempts 
at  love-making.  There  were  parties  of  every  descrip- 
tion,— for  riding,  walking,  berrying,  sailing,  and  dancing. 
Mr.  Douglass  and  Colonel  Clarendon  exerted  them- 
selves to  the  utmost  for  the  entertainment  of  their 
guests;  and  as  the  guests  were  moving  people,  motion 
of  some  sort  was  the  order  of  the  days  and  weeks. 
There  were  no  quiet,  sober  talks  between  Gregory  and 
Agatha,  and  scarcely  between  Honora  and  her  brother, 


THE    SERENADE.  293 

except  they  sought  the  early  morning  hours,  before 
the  family  arose.  These  precious  moments  were  often 
interrupted  by  Isabelle,  who  seemed  to  possess  an  in- 
stinctive knowledge  of  Gregory's  whereabouts.  She 
did  not  appear  intrusive,  but  came  in  so  naturally,  and 
apologized  so  prettily,  that  Clarendon  accused  himself 
of  vanity  and  uncharitableness  in  thinking  she  planned 
to  meet  him.  These  days  could  not  be  said  to  be  days 
of  enjoyment  to  either  Honora  or  her  brother;  they 
had  tasted  of  higher  pleasures,  and  these  soon  lost 
their  charm. 

The  stay  of  the  Winchesters  was  drawing  to  a  close, 
and  Isabelle  was  spending  the  last  week  at  Maple.  Cliff. 
Sitting  in  the  window  of  her  chamber,  after  the  family 
had  retired,  she  seemed  nearer  the  goal  of  her  wishes. 
She  was  becoming  interested  in  things  that  interested 
those  she  loved.  She  was  conforming  in  externals  to 
the  stricter  notions  of  her  friends.  That  day,  she  had 
ridden  to  the  Gorge  with  Gregory,  to  select  a  site  for 
the  chapel,  talked  of  for  so  many  months.  But  little 
was  collected  towards  its  erection ;  but  faith  was  to  lay 
the  corner-stone.  On  her  return,  Isabelle  had  deli- 
cately placed  in  Mr.  Clement's  hands  a  sufficient  sum 


294  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MAEY. 

to  finish  the  building,  in  the  original  and  beautiful  de- 
sign ;  and  for  this  act  she  received  from  Gregory  a 
look  of  admiration,  and  a  warm  pressure  of  the  hand, 
that  well  repaid  her  for  the  sacrifice.  The  moon  was 
at  the  full,  and  the  whole  scene  from  the  window  of 
her  bedchamber,  was  suggestive  of  peace  and  repose. 

From  the  river  a  curh'ng  mist  arose,  which  concealed 
the  village,  leaving  the  tree-tops  visible,  like  islands  in 
the  midst  of  a  wide  sea,  and  the  tower  of  the  old 
church,  with  its  gilded  cross,  seeming  in  the  pale  light 
like  a  huge  rock,  with  the  precious  sign  on  its  sum- 
mit, a  beacon-light  to  the  tempest-tost. 

Woodland  Bluff  was  between  Isabelle  and  this  phan- 
tom sea;  the  quiet  beauty  of  its  cottage  contrasting 
with  the  bold  bluff  on  which  it  stood.  How  did  she 
long  to  know  that  there  was  one  beneath  that  roof 
dreaming  of  her !  A  rustling  in  the  shrubbery  caused 
her  to  draw  back  from  her  position  in  front  of  the 
window,  and  presently  there  came  floating  on  the  even- 
ing air  the  sound  of  a  flute,  soft  and  melodious.  Was 
it  the  melody  alone  that  caused  her  hastily  to  pull 
down  the  blinds,  sink  into  her  seat,  and  weep  bitterly? 
The  chords  that  fell  so  sweetly  on  the  ear  brought 


THE    SERENADE.  295 

wretchedness  and  misery  to  her  heart.  There  could 
be  no  mistake;  she  had  listened  to  those  tones  under 
brighter  skies.  The  memory  of  the  past  came  with 
agony  to  her  soul;  companionship  with  the  good  and 
upright  was  doing  its  work.  The  next  morning  found 
her  in  a  state  of  nervous  excitement,  but  returning 
day  brought  the  hope  that  no  other  ear  had  caught 
the  music  of  the  night. 

A  fishing  party  had  been  proposed  for  that  day,  got 
up  by  Tom  Ridgway.  Fishing-grounds  were  numer- 
ous about  Rockridge,  but  none  with  the  capacities  of 
Oak  Bay.  For  some  reason,  which  no  one  pretended 
to  understand,  Gregory  stoutly  set  his  face  against  that 
place  for  the  day's  pastime.  He  gave  no  particular 
excuse  for  this  "freak,"  as  Duncan  Winchester  called 
it,  and  Honora  wondered  that  he  cared  enough  for  the 
place  to  say  so  much  about  it.  He  was  overruled, 
however,  by  the  other  gentlemen,  and  Oak  Bay  was 
decided  upon.  Clarendon  looked  grave  when  he  came 
over  to  Maple  Giff  to  make  arrangements  for  the 
party.  Agatha  rushed  to  him,  and  in  her  old  eager 
way,  with  a  slight  twinkle  in  her  merry  eyes,  asked 
him  if  he  made  the  beautiful  music  she  heard  during 


296  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MABY. 

the  night  in  the  shrubbery.  Isabelle  attempted  to  si- 
lence her,  but  Gregory  insisted  upon  hearing  her  inno- 
cent description  of  the  kind  of  music,  and  her  earnest 
declaration,  that  "she  thought  it  must  be  he,  serenad- 
ing Miss  Isabelle." 

Gregory  looked  graver  than  before,  and  immediately 
walked  on  to  the  balcony.  Isabelle  hesitated;  it  was 
an  unmaidenly  act  that  suggested  itself,  but  she  must 
risk  something,  and  she  followed. 

"  Mr.  Clarendon,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "  you  would 
pity  me  if  you  knew  what  I  have  suffered.  I  would 
do  anything,  be  anything,  to  cancel  the  effect  of  my 
wickedness."  She  sunk  down  into  the  carved  seat,  and 
hid  her  face. 

"Isabelle,"  said  he,  kindly,  "there  is  only  one  thing 
you  can  do.  Cease  coquetry,  cease  flirtation.  Be 
what  you  may  be,  what  you  should  be,  a  Christian 
woman." 

"I  will,"  she  said,  earnestly. 

He  gently  drew  her  trembling  arm  within  his,  and 
walked  across  the  balcony  till  she  had  recovered  her 
calmness,  and  then  led  her  back  to  the  company. 


THE    FISHING    EXCURSION.  297 


CHAPTER     XXXVIII. 

THE   FISHING  EXCURSION. 

"  To  know  all  human  skill,  all  human  strength, 
Avail  not ;  to  look  round  and  see 
The  mountain  wave  incumbent  with  its  weight 
Of  bursting  waters  o'er  the  reeling  bark, — 
0  God  !  this  is  indeed  a  fearful  thing  !  " 

SOUTHEY. 

THERE  WAS  a  great  gathering  for  the  fishing 
party,  and  boats  of  all  sizes  and  orders.  The 
day  was  a  true  dog-day,  —  hazy,  sultry,  cloudy,  the 
sun  occasionally  straggling  through  the  clouds  with 
burning  heat  In  the  boat  with  Gregory  were  Miss 
Isabelle  (of  course) ;  Chauncey  Douglass,  who  had 
joined  this  party  solely  with  the  desire  to  look  upon 
the  beauty  that  had  caused  the  fall  of  Pierre  ;  Tom 
Ridgway  and  wife,  with  Chet  at  the  helm.  Agatha, 
to  the  annoyance  and  discomfort  of  Honora  and  Greg- 
ory, was  thrown,  as  if  by  accident,  but  really  by  the 
13* 


298  THE    CHAPEL     OF     ST.    MAIIY. 

arrangement  of  her  uncle,  into  a  small  sail-boat,  with 
Stella  and  the  brothers  Winchester. 

A  better  fishing  day  could  not  have  been  chosen. 
Noise  and  merriment  were  there,  and  sometimes  quiet, 
reflective  fishing,  with  a  loud  scream  and  hurrah,  at 
each  successful  haul,  from  the  young  people.  Now 
and  then  the  boat  in  which  were  Agatha  and  her 
young  friends  would  pass  near  Gregory,  convincing 
him  by  their  movements  that  they  knew  nothing  of 
its  management.  Once  when  they  came  suddenly 
across  the  bow  of  his  boat,  he  requested  the  young 
men  to  take  Chet  to  steer  for  them,  but  they  scouted 
the  idea  of  danger,  and  went  boldly  down  the  bay, 
the  breeze  bearing  back  to  Gregory's  ears  the  song 
which  Duncan,  with  his  rich,  musical  voice,  was  car- 
olling :  — 

"  Here  let  my  home  be, 
Oil  the  waters  wide: 
I  roam  -with  a  proud  heart, 
Aggie  's  by  my  side." 

The  intense  heat  of  the  sun  added  to  Isabelle's 
nervous  headache,  and  she  looked  wretchedly.  Mrs. 
Tom  Ridgway  suggested  that  it  would  be  kind  to 


THE    FISHING    EXCURSION.  299 

cany  her  to  the  shore,  and  proposed  to  remain 
with  her;  but  this  Gregory  knew  would  displease  that 
lady's  husband,  and  he  landed  himself  with  Miss  Win- 
chester. He  really  felt  pity  for  the  mental  suffer- 
big  she  was  enduring,  and  exerted  himself  to  relieve 
her. 

It  was  an  unfortunate  position  for  Clarendon,  as 
they  sat  together  under  an  overhanging  bluff,  crowned 
with  willows,  that  dipped  their  long  branches  to  the 
very  water's  edge.  Miss  Winchester  was  relieved  by 
the  cool  shade ;  and  the  conversation  naturally  turned 
to  Pierre  and  the  serenade,  and  she  expressed  herself 
completely  subdued  and  humbled  by  the  remembrance 
of  the  part  she  had  acted.  Gregory  pointed  out  the 
farm-house  on  the  opposite  shore,  the  home  of  the  poor, 
demented  McLellan.  They  talked  of  life,  with  its 
joys  and  sorrows,  and  Gregory  became  interested  hi 
her  frank  avowal  of  the  utter  folly  of  her  past  days, 
with  her  resolutions  for  the  future. 

"  But  I  have  no  one  to  counsel  me,"  she  said,  sor- 
rowfully ;  •'  no  mother,  no  sister  !  " 

Gregory  was  about  to  speak  of  the  true  source  of 
help  in  all  efforts  for  the  right,  as  she  continued  in  a 


300  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

low  tone  :  "  If  I  had  one  like  you,  Mr.  Clarendon, 
to  guide  me,  I  might  hope  that  my  endeavors  would 
not  utterly  fail." 

Gregory  was  silent.  He  was  thinking  whether  she 
could  mean  anything  particular,  when  she  proceeded  : 
"  You  will  despise  me,  Gregory,  —  you  will  have  a 
right  to  despise  me,  —  when  I  make  known  to  you  the 
truth  that  is  burning  in  my  bosom.  I  know  the  forms 
of  society,  maidenly  reserve,  common  modesty,  are 
against  me.  I  determined  to  commit  my  secret  to  you, 
—  to  throw  myself  on  your  generosity.  I  know  your 
noble  nature  will  not  betray  me.  O  Clarendon  !  if 
you  could  look  into  my  heart " 

"  Miss  Winchester,"  he  replied,  rising  coldly,  "  I  must 
not  permit  you  to  say  more." 

"  O  Gregory  ! "  she  said,  passionately  seizing  his 
hand  as  he  turned  away  ;  "  do  not  leave  me  thus ! 
Do  not  cast  me  off  as  accursed !  Do  not  hate  me ! " 

"  Isabelle,"  he  replied,  somewhat  softened  by  the 
intensity  of  her  emotion ;  "  sit  down,  and  let  me  speak 
reasonably  with  you.  Your  secret  is  safe  ;  but,  as  a 
man  of  honor,  I  must  tell  you  plainly,  once  and  for- 
ever, that  what  you  wish  can  never  be ! " 


THE    FISHING    EXCURSION.  301 

"  You  love  another ! "  she  said,  eagerly  looking  into 
his  face,  for  a  confirmation  of  her  suspicions. 

He  did  not  reply,  but  turned  coldly  away  from  her 
searching  glance.  At  that  instant  her  eyes  were  di- 
rected to  the  bluff  above,  and,  uttering  a  wild  scream 
of  terror,  she  fell  fainting  to  the  earth.  Clarendon's 
attention  was  recalled,  and  he  bore  her  in  his  arms  to 
the  water,  calling  to  the  boat  in  which  were  Honora 
and  his  father,  with  the  General,  which  immediately 
headed  toward  the  shore.  Gregory,  explaining  the 
fainting  as  partly  the  result  of  fatigue  and  headache, 
resigned  Isabelle  into  the  hands  of  her  friends,  and, 
mortified  and  distressed,  sauntered  down  the  beach. 

He  was  disgusted  with  Isabelle,  vexed  by  his  own 
uneasy,  restless  state  of  mind,  and  troubled  about  Aga- 
tha and  Stella.  He  could  discern,  far  down  the  bay, 
the  boat  in  which  the  thoughtless  young  people  were 
sailing  away.  The  clouds  were  gathering,  and  presently 
came  the  sound  of  distant  thunder ;  but  it  did  not  alarm 
the  fishermen  and  women,  so  intent  were  they  upon 
their  pleasure.  Gregory  walked  around  the  bend 
of  the  bay,  and  now  the  probabilities  of  a  heavy 
shower  were  more  apparent.  The  wind  was  rising, 


302  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

and  he  hurried  back,  shouting  to  Chet,  and  all  who 
were  within  hearing,  that  they  would  hardly  have  time 
to  land  before  the  rain.  The  wind,  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, came  rushing  down  the  Gorge,  and  across  the 
bay.  Every  vessel  was  instantly  headed  for  shore. 
The  breeze  bent  and  swayed  the  tall  forest-trees,  and 
carried  the  leaves  about  in  wheeling  eddies.  The  skiff 
manned  by  the  brothers  Winchester  made  no  headway ; 
wind  and  current  were  both  against  them,  and  the  gust 
rent  their  sail  into  ribbons.  The  first  row-boat  that 
landed  its  passengers,  was  seized  upon  by  Clarendon, 
and  he  put  off  to  the  rescue.  Chet  followed,  in  a 
second  boat,  but  he  had  made  but  few  strokes  with  his 
oars,  when  another  gust  struck  the  little  sail-boat  on 
her  side,  and  she  was  instantly  capsized. 

Intense  terror  ran  through  the  watching  group  on 
shore.  Every  man  that  could  find  oars  and  boat  was 
instantly  on  the  water,  while  the  horror-stricken  women 
stood  on  the  beach,  longing  to  help,  but  powerless ;  the 
rain  pouring  in  torrents  from  the  leaden-colored  clouds, 
the  thunder  pealing  and  rattling  around  them,  with 
vivid  flashes  of  lightning  that  made  the  after  darkness 
more  terrible. 


THE    PISHING    EXCURSION.  303 

The  strength  of  a  giant  nerved  Gregory,  and  he  was 
first  at  the  spot  where  the  vessel  went  down.  Chet 
had  come  to  the  assistance  of  Dudley  and  Stella,  who 
were  swimming  towards  shore  ;  and  Chauncey  had 
picked  up  Duncan,  with  his  right  arm  disabled  in  the 
accident.  But  Agatha,  the  child  Agatha,  was  nowhere 
to  be  seen.  Clarendon's  presence  of  mind  did  not  for- 
sake him.  He  laid  down  his  oars,  and  looked  into 
the  waters,  as  if  he  would  pierce  their  very  depths. 
There  was  not  a  word  from  the  group  of  boats  that 
gathered  round.  Presently,  not  a  rod  from  the  bow 
of  his  boat,  floating  down  rapidly  with  the  current, 
Clarendon  discerned  the  form  he  was  seeking,  just 
rising  to  the  surface.  Instantly  he  was  in  the  water, 
and  before  the  deadly  element  closed  again  over  those 
brown  curls,  his  right  hand,  with  a  grasp  for  life  or 
death,  bore  her  above  the  waves. 

He  held  the  lifeless  girl  in  his  arms,  and  motioned 
Chet  to  row  to  the  farm-house.  Chauncey,  Mr. 
Douglass,  and  Honora  followed,  while  the  company 
returned,  with  saddened  hearts,  to  the  homes  they  had 
left  that  morning  so  joyously.  Duncan  Winchester 
was  in  a  sorry  plight.  His  fractured  arm,  and  the 


304  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

knowledge  that  by  his  foolhardiness  the  prize  just 
within  his  reach  was  snatched  forever  from  him,  ren- 
dered him  miserable. 

All  the  customary  means  of  resuscitation  were  used 
upon  Agatha,  but  without  success.  Chauncey  stood 
over  her,  his  hand  on  her  heart,  to  note  the  least  pul- 
sation; Gregory  watched  continually  for  the  first  flut- 
ter of  the  eyelids;  but  watched  and  waited  in  vain. 
Clarendon  had  not  spoken,  till  Dr.  Woodbury  pro- 
nounced her  beyond  reach  of  assistance ;  then  he  raised 
his  eyes,  and,  in  a  hoarse  voice,  said,  "  She  must  live." 

Other  urgent  calls  the  physician  had,  and  after  hours 
of  unwearied  exertion,  he  left,  giving  all  needful  direc- 
tions to  Honora,  in  the  event  of  a  change,  saying  as 
he  went  out,  "  It  is  of  no  use." 

Mr.  Douglass  walked  the  room  with  hasty  strides, 
continually  reproaching ,  himself  as  the  cause  of  the 
trouble.  Hope  had  almost  died  out  of  the  heart  of 
Honora,  though  she  still  labored  on,  supported  by  the 
earnest  efforts  of  her  brother,  in  the  use  of  means. 
Gregory's  countenance  denoted  settled  sorrow;  when 
the  very  faintest  possible  sigh  came  from  that  breast 
that  had  so  long  lain  in  the  stillness  of  death.  Honora 


THE    FISHING    EXCURSION.  305 

was  faint  with  joy,  while  Gregory  was  completely  over- 
come with  the  revulsion  of  feeling  from  despair  to 
hope.  By  much  persuasion,  Mr.  Douglass  was  induced 
to  return  with  Chet,  to  give  the  joyful  intelligence  that 
there  was  hope  to  the  waiting  hearts  at  home,  while 
Honora  kept  watch,  with  her  brother,  over  the  slow- 
returning  life. 

It  had  grown  dark;  the  wild  waves,  lashed  by  the 
angry  winds,  came  tumbling  and  roaring  down  the 
Gorge,  into  the  bay.  Shower  succeeded  shower  through 
the  night.  Flashes  of  lightning,  followed  by  quick, 
sharp  reports,  came  in  rapid  succession.  Mr.  Clement 
came  down,  amid  the  storm,  to  offer  his  assistance  and 
sympathy,  and  to  comfort  their  fainting  hearts  with 
needed  prayers.  Long  after  midnight  they  watched 
and  waited  for  the  first  look,  the  first  word.  Pulsa- 
tion was  restored  feebly,  the  breath  was  low  and  short, 
regained  by  fearful  struggles,  and  life  still  hung  by  a 
gossamer  thread.  Gregory  observed  a  slight  movement 
of  the  lips ;  he  stooped  over  the  pale  form,  and  whis- 
pered, "Agatha." 

"No,  Duncan,"  she  replied,  very  faintly,  striving  to 
remove  the  hand  that  held  hers ;  "  don't  speak  of  it. 

T 


306  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MABY. 

I  am  only  a  child,"  —  and  she  tried  to  laugh  her  gay, 
brilliant  laugh,  but  it  died  in  a  gurgling  sound. 

"  It  is  as  I  feared,"  thought  Gregory ;  "  they  would 
deprive  you  of  your  girlhood,  burden  you  thus  early 
with  the  cares  of  life.  It  shall  not  be ! " 

As  the  morning  sun  came  forth,  clear  and  cloudless, 
the  drooping  child,  aroused  more  fully,  opened  her  large 
eyes,  and  gazed  around  till  they  fixed  themselves  upon 
Gregory,  who  sat  by  her  side ;  and  then  came  slowly 
back  the  remembrance  of  the  last  waking  scene.  She  - 
made  an  effort  to  raise  her  head,  but  could  not  lift  it 
from  the  pillow ;  but  reaching  out  her  arms,  she  clasped 
Gregory  tightly  to  her  heart.  It  was  the  embrace  of  a 
soul  returning  to  life  and  love. 

Her  friends  would  not  suffer  her  to  speak,  but  gen- 
tly soothed  her  into  a  quiet  slumber. 

Now  Honora  could  look  out  on  the  devastations  of 
the  tempest.  Trees  were  torn  up  by  the  roots,  and 
shivered  by  lightning.  The  bluff  on  the  opposite  shore 
was  blasted,  and  the  willows  that  overhung  it  lay 
stripped  and  dead  beneath  it. 

Pierre  had  been  forgotten  during  the  excitement  of 
the  previous  evening,  and  it  was  found,  on  inquiry,  that 


THE    FISHING    EXCURSION.  307 

he  had  not  been  seen  since  an  hour  before  the  storm. 
Agatha  was  sleeping  quietly,  and  Gregory  walked  out 
to  breathe  the  morning  air.  Presently  Chet  appeared 
on  the  opposite  shore,  accompanied  by  two  men,  bear- 
ing a  burden  from  beneath  the  willows,  where  Claren- 
don had  sat  with  Isabelle. 

Like  a  flash  came  the  thought  to  Gregory  and 
Chauncey,  as  they  watched  the  scene,  that  it  was  the 
body  of  Pierre.  They  were  not  mistaken.  He  had 
been  found  where  the  willows  had  been  shivered  by 
lightning,  dead  many  hours.  Chauncey  discovered  in 
the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat  a  slip  of  paper,  on  which 
was  written  with  a  pencil :  — 

"I  have  seen  thee,  loveliest,  fairest  of  them  all! 
Yes,  I  have  seen  thee,  carried  in  his  arms.  He  is 
worthy  of  thee,  thou  peerless  one !  I  give  thee  up,  — 
yes,  give  thee  up  to  him.  Fond  heart,  lie  still.  Clar- 
endon is  all  goodness,  all  honor,  and  I  sacrifice  to  his 
love  what  is  dearer  than  life. 

"  Beautiful !  thou  art  more  than  beautiful.  Heaven 
can  contain  no  brighter  presence.  Farewell.  The 
Storm  comes  on,  and  I  may  not  stay.  Peace  be  about 
thy  pillow!  Poor  Pierre  will  never  disturb  thee! 
Once  more,  farewell."  € 


308  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  Poor  fellow,  how  mistaken ! "  said  Gregory,  look- 
ing Chauncey  full  in  the  face.  "Were  you  deceived 
also,  Chauncey?" 

"Never!"   replied  the  young  man,  decidedly. 

A  crowd  was  assembling,  attracted  by  the  news, 
and  they  hastened  into  the  house,  lest  Agatha  should 
be  disturbed. 

As  Pierre  had  been  to  the  last  a  Roman  Catholic, 
Gregory  thought  proper  to  send  to  Ridgeville  for  the 
Romish  priest.  This  act  of  common  courtesy  magni- 
fied itself,  in  the  eyes  of  many  of  the  good  people  of 
Rockridge,  into  an  offence  against  Protestantism,  so 
little  is  the  spirit  of  toleration,  or  forbearance,  under- 
stood. 


THE    OFFER    REJECTED.  309 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

THE   OFFER  REJECTED. 

"He  hums  and  he  hankers,  he  frets  and  he  cankers, 
You  never  can  please  him  do  all  that  you  can, 
He 's  peevish  and  jealous  of  all  the  young  fellows." 

BCRNS. 

"  One  hour  hath  passed  —  and  o'er  the  deep  blue  sky 
A  dimness  hangs,  whose  chill  is  in  my  heart; 
The  wind  with  funeral  moans  goes  sweeping  by, 
And  asks  in  every  whisper,  where  thou  art." 

TSABELLE  AND  her  restless  brother  were  an  un- 
I  happy  pair.  She  had  humbled  herself  for  naught; 
and  now,  in  the  midst  of  her  intense  feeling  of  shame, 
came  the  news  of  Pierre's  sudden  and  awful  death,  to 
add  the  bitterness  of  remorse  to  her  sense  of  degrada- 
tion. They  were  to  follow  their  father  to  New  York 
as  soon  as  Duncan's  arm  was  in  a  state  for  the  jour- 
ney. Mr.  Douglass  was  irritated  because  the  Doctor 
would  not  say  that  Agatha  might  be  removed  to  her 
home,  and  spent  his  time  in  rapid  rides  between 


310  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MABY. 

Maple  Cliff  and  the  farm-house.  On  one  of  these  oc- 
casions, he  had  said  to  Agatha,  that  "  Duncan  "Winches- 
ter was  savage  as  a  bear,  because  every  one  but  he  that 
had  the  best  right  could  see  her,  and  he  had  engaged 
Chet  to  come  after  her  in  a  few  hours."  Gregory  over- 
heard the  remark,  as  he  stood  near  the  sofa  where  she 
was  reclining.  He  felt  the  changing  color  in  his  own 
cheek,  and  saw  the  disturbed  blush  that  lighted  Aga- 
tha's pale  face. 

When  Mr.  Douglass  went  out,  Clarendon  sat  down 
by  her  side,  and  said  in  as  calm  a  tone  as  he  could 
command:  -'Agatha,  is  Duncan  Winchester  correct  in 
supposing  he  has  the  best  right  here?" 

She  looked  at  him,  questioning  whether  he  was  in 
earnest  in  his  inquiry. 

"I  would  they  had  kept  you  a  child,"  he  continued, 
in  a  disappointed  manner.  "  I  would  they  had  left  you 
the  freedom  of  girlhood,  untrammelled  by  such  words 
as  Duncan  has  whispered  in  your  ear." 

"They  were  not  pleasant  to  me,"  she  replied  quick- 
ly. "  I  am  vexed  and  annoyed  that  Duncan  will  not 
understand  that  his  professions  are  displeasing.  I  will 
be  'little  Aggie'  still;  I  have  no  wish  to  be  a  woman, 


THE    OFFER    REJECTED.  311 

and  Duncan  Winchester  must  desist ! "  she  added,  in 
the  old  positive  way. 

"He  shall  desist!"  said  Clarendon,  earnestly;  "you 
shall  not  be  thus  annoyed ! " 

"  Perhaps,"  she  replied,  the  blush  spreading  over 
her  face  and  neck,  "he  may  mean  only  to  tease  me. 
I  have  sometimes  thought  so." 

"If  he  speaks  thus  to  tease  you,"  said  Clarendon, 
"  it  is  ungentlemanly,  and  should  be  stopped :  if  he  is 
serious  in  his  addresses,  though  but  a  child,  you  have 
a  right  to  answer  for  yourself,  and  if  he  is  agreeable, 
simply  refer  him  to  your  uncle." 

Gregory  forced  himself  to  make  this  speech,  as  a 
matter  of  duty.  It  came  very  reluctantly,  and  he  was 
frightened  when  he  saw  how  the  thought  sent  the 
blood  from  her  cheek. 

"  Never !  never ! "  she  said,  earnestly.  "  Uncle  and 
all  the  world  cannot  make  me  marry  a  man  I  do  not 
respect." 

"  Spoken  like  a  noble  girl ! "  said  he,  drawing  her 
towards  him.  "  But  you  are  weary ;  rest  here." 

She  lay  like  a  tired  child,  resting  her  head  on  his 
shoulder,  till  the  sound  of  her  uncle's  carriage-wheels 
were  heard  on  the  beach. 


312  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"They  are  coming,"  she  said,  raising  herself,  and 
speaking  in  a  sad  tone.  "  Gregory,  I  wish  I  may  never 
see  Duncan  Winchester.  Is  that  wicked?" 

"  Poor  child  !  "  he  replied,  soothingly.  "  Speak  as 
decidedly  to  him  as  you  have  of  him,  and  I  think  he 
will  not  trouble  you ;  if  he  does  — " 

Mr.  Douglass  and  Honora  entered  with  Chet  at  this 
moment.  The  shawls  and  cloaks  were  wrapped  about 
Agatha ;  and  Gregory,  in  spite  of  Mr.  Douglass's  mo- 
tion to  Chet,  took  the  little  girl  in  his  own  arms,  and 
placed  her  in  the  carriage. 

Agatha's  youthful  vigor  soon  returned,  and  in  a  few 
days  she  met  the  family  as  usual.  Duncan  still  lin- 
gered, determined  to  make  one  desperate  effort  for  the 
prize  he  had  so  well-nigh  lost.  Dudley  had  returned 
home  with  his  sister,  with  the  memory  of  a  pair  of 
violet  eyes  that  haunted  him  pleasantly.  The  day 
after  his  departure  was  the  commencement  of  one  of 
those  chilly  storms  that  sometimes  darken  the  month 
of  August.  The  rain  beat  against  the  panes,  and  the 
wind  tore  off  the  multiflora  that  covered  the  library 
windows.  Agatha  reclined  on  the  sofa  that  had  been 
drawn  towards  the  fire  by  Gregory.  He  had  just  left 


THE    OFFER    REJECTED.  313 

her  for  church ;  it  was  St.  Bartholomew's  day,  and 
Agatha  was  wishing,  as  she  watched  the  bright  embers, 
that  the  church  had  chosen  some  other  day  for  the 
saint,  when  Duncan  Winchester  walked  in.  She  rose 
from  her  recumbent  posture  as  he  came  forward,  apolo- 
gizing for  his  intrusion. 

"  No  intrusion,  certainly,  Duncan,"  she  replied ;  "  the 
library  is  free  to  the  family." 

He  sat  down,  and  examined  the  pretty  work  she 
held  in  her  hand. 

"  It  is  my  birthday,"  he  said,  — "  to-day  I  am  out 
of  my  teens,  —  twenty  to-day." 

"  More  than  four  years  older  than  I,"  said  Agatha, 
innocently. 

"  Just  the  right  difference  in  our  ages,"  said  the 
young  man,  blushing. 

There  was  a  pause,  and  Agatha,  fearing  something 
she  dreaded,  attempted  to  leave  the  room;  but  he 
would  not  suffer  her  to  rise,  but  plainly  asked  her 
consent  to  speak  to  her  uncle  of  an  engagement. 

Once  she  felt  inclined  to  laugh  at  the  idea  of  her 
thinking  of  marriage  at  her  age,  but  she  replied  very 
properly :  "  Duncan,  you  have  spoken  thus  before,  but 
14 


314  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

I  could  not  think  you  were  serious.  I  am  but  a  child. 
I  do  not  wish  to  think  of  what  you  propose.  I  wish 
to  be  free,  free  as  a  bird,  at  least  till  I  leave  school." 

"  But  you  are  not  free,"  he  said,  hastily.  "  Do  you 
think  I  cannot  read  Clarendon's  course  during  and 
after  the  storm.  But  you  must  be  mine.  Your  uncle 
favors  me"  he  added,  a  little  softened.  "  Give  me  one 
word  of  hope." 

During  the  first  part  of  this  speech,  Agatha  listened ; 
but  when  he  spoke  of  Clarendon  and  the  storm,  she 
drew  herself  up  haughtily  and  left  him  ha  solitude. 

"  There !  I  have  finished  the  matter  now,"  he  solilo- 
quized. "Why  need  I  have  spoken  so  warmly  of 
Clarendon  ?  His  long  tete-a-tete  call  this  morning  vexed 
me.  I  am  afraid  it  will  take  many  days  of  humility 
on  my  part  to  bring  this  proud  little  thing  to  terms. 
I  '11  speak  to  Mr.  Douglass,  rouse  his  suspicions  of 
Clarendon,  though  really  I  believe  this  managing  young 
parson  has  no  idea  of  Agatha,  except  as  a  child  of 
whom  he  wishes  to  make  a  saint,  like  himself.  I  like 
her  spirit,  —  a  spice  of  temper  gives  variety.  I  am 
really  sorry  I  said  that  about  the  storm.  It  seemed 
to  strike  deeper  than  I  intended." 


THE    OFFER    REJECTED.  315 

In  the  evening  Agatha  was  summoned  from  her 
chamber  to  the  library.  There  was  a  presentiment 
that  caused  her  to  tremble  as  she  stepped  across  the 
hall.  Her  uncle  was  walking  the  room,  as  usual,  with 
hasty  strides,  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  He  placed  a 
chair  for  his  niece. 

"  My  child,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  more  gentle  than 
she  had  ever  heard  from  him,  "young  Winchester 
has  been  with  me  for  the  last  hour,  pleading  for  an 
engagement  with  you.  You  are  very  young,  Agatha ; 
but  that  need  not  be  a  reason  for  refusing  his  hand. 
I  would  be  glad  to  see  you  married,  and  settled  on 
your  own  estate,  after,  an  engagement  of  a  year  or 
two.  With  your  united  fortunes  —  " 

He  was  checked  by  the  very  ghastly  look  of  Aga- 
tha's face.  As  soon  as  he  paused,  however,  she  spoke 
in  a  voice  struggling  with  emotion :  "  Don't  speak  of 
it,  uncle,  please  don't  speak  of  it.  Mr.  Winchester 
is  not  agreeable  to  me,  even  if  I  were  old  enough  to 
marry." 

"  Agreeable,  child !  and  why  not,  pray  ?  He  is 
young,  handsome,  sensible,  rich,  and  of  good  family. 
What  more  can  you  ask?  The  objection  you  make 


816  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

for  yourself  is  growing  less  every  day.  You  hardly 
know  your  own  mind.  You  shall  have  time  to  think 
of  it,  but  I  can  tell  you  this  is  not  an  every-day 
chance." 

"  I  need  no  time  to  think  of  it,  uncle,"  she  replied, 
with  downcast  eyes.  "I  could  never  marry  Duncan 
Winchester ;  I  have  neither  love  nor  respect  for  him." 

"Agatha  Douglass,"  said  her  uncle,  rising,  his  kind 
manner  vanishing,  and  he  towering  above  her.  "  Look 
me  in  the  face,  and  tell  me  instantly,  what  does  this 
mean?" 

His  terrible  manner  frightened  the  poor  child  out 
of  the  power  of  speech.  „ 

"  Answer  me  !  What  am  I  to  understand  ?  "  he 
said,  in  a  voice  like  the  sound  of  distant  thunder,  at 
the  same  time  taking  her  very  roughly  by  the  arm. 
"This,  then,  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  devotion,"  he 
added,  finding  she  did  not  speak.  "  It  is  for  this,  that 
I  left  you  and  Clarendon  together  at  Oak  Bay  ?  Ag- 
atha, Gregory  Clarendon  shall  rue  the  day  he  saw 
you  !  " 

"Uncle,"  said  the  little  girl,  recovering  herself  from 
the  state  of  astonishment  into  which  she  had  been 


THE    OFFER    REJECTED.  317 

thrown  by  her  uncle's  accusations,  "  Gregory  Claren- 
don saved  my  life,  and  I  owe  him  a  debt  I  can  never 
repay  ;  but  you  have  mistaken  his  feelings.  He  re- 
gards me  only  as  a  child,  which  I  am,"  she  added, 
clasping  her  hands  and  weeping  bitterly.  "Why  will 
you  not  let  me  be  your  child,  your  Aggie  ?  Do  not 
deprive  me  of  my  girlhood,  and  make  me  — " 

"  Artful  girl ! "  exclaimed  her  uncle,  fixing  his  sharp, 
spectacled  eyes  upon  her ;  "  you  know  you  are  speak- 
ing false  !  " 

All  Agatha's  resolutions  of  self-control  gave  way, 
amid  the  storm  of  indignation  that  followed  this  di- 
rect falsification  of  her  word,  and  she  burst  forth  into 
bitter,  burning  words  against  her  uncle  for  his  neg- 
lect in  her  training,  at  the  same  time  telling  him  that, 
if  there  was  any  good  thing  in  her,  it  was  the  result 
of  the  Clarendons'  influence.  She  might  have  gone  on 
to  any  extent,  but  she  had  drawn  out  with  her  hand- 
kerchief a  card,  on  which  Gregory  had  written,  "  He 
that  ruleth  his  own  spirit  is  better  than  he  that  taketh 
a  city."  One  glance  of  her  eye  over  it,  and  she  sunk 
down,  overwhelmed  with  the  thoughts  of  her  want  of 
self-control.  Mr.  Douglass  stalked  out  of  the  room,  livid 
with  rase. 


318  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

Duncan  Winchester  left  for  New  York  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  in  the  evening  Mr.  Douglass  journeyed  with 
Agatha  towards  Baltimore,  where  she  was  placed  at 
school,  in  a  convent  near  that  city.  She  was  pre- 
vented from  leaving  even  a  farewell  for  her  friends, 
so  peremptory  and  rigid  were  her  uncle's  commands. 
Clarendon  was  deeply  distressed  at  the  turn  of  affairs, 
and  confided  to  Honora  his  suspicions  as  to  the  cause 
of  this  sudden  movement  of  Mr.  Douglass.  Maple 
CM",  with  its  closed  windows  and  doors,  was  very  des- 
olate, for  the  master  had  broken  up  the  household, 
and  gone  on  a  Western  tour. 

Gregory  was  glad  when  the  last  sad  week  of  vaca- 
tion was  at  an  end,  and  he  could  return  to  his  studies. 
The  remark  he  had  made  to  Honora,  before  his  first 
call  upon  Agatha,  came  with  stinging  freshness  to  his 
mind:  "What  better,  sister,  is  life  at  Maple  Cliff,  than 
with  the  Sisters  of  Charity.  It  would  not  take  me 
many  hours  to  choose  between  these  two  states  of  life, 
if  I  had  a  protegee" 


THE    RECTOR'S    MARRIAGE.  319 


CHAPTER    XL. 

THE  RECTOR'S  MARRIAGE. 

"  Let  me  not  die  before  I  've  done  for  Thee 
My  earthly  work,  whatever  it  may  be. 
Call  me  not  hence  with  mission  unfulfilled ; 
Let  me  not  leave  my  spot  of  ground  unfilled ; 
Impress  this  truth  upon  me,  that  not  one 
Can  do  my  portion  that  I  leave  undone." 

IT  IS  necessary  that  we  return  for  a  while  to  our 
friend,  Miss  Charlotte  Morgan,  an  exile  from  her 
friends,  deprived  of  the  religious  privileges  she  prized 
most  highly,  and  the  daily  companion  of  a  thoroughly 
worldly,  niggardly  old  woman,  whom  she  could  not 
leave  after  having  once  established  herself  there.  Dis- 
ease had  rendered  her  relative  nearly  helpless,  and  ill- 
temper  had  driven  from  her  all  but  mercenary  attend- 
ants. It  may  be  supposed  that  Charlotte  did  sometimes 
look  back  with  longing  to  the  dear  society  of  Honora ; 
but  the  resolute  performance  of  daily  present  duty  led 
her  forward  to  the  one  ami  of  her  life. 


320  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

Charlotte  made  no  acquaintance  in  Spring  Valley, 
except  among  the  very  poor,  whom  she  visited  in  the 
midst  of  her  aunt's  continued  opposition.  During  the 
month  of  July,  she  heard  by  accident  of  a  family  with- 
out the  village,  friendless,  and  struggling  with  sickness 
and  poverty,  and  her  steps  took  the  direction  of  the 
humble  cottage  for  her  afternoon  walk.  In  reply  to 
her  knock  at  the  door,  it  was  opened,  and  two  fair 
arms  were  about  her  neck  in  an  instant,  and  her  tears 
were  mingling  with  those  of  the  gentle  Anne  "Wai- 
bridge,  Then  she  saw  plainly,  as  if  it  had  been  a 
revelation  from  Heaven,  the  Hand  that  brought  and 
kept  her  at  Spring  Valley,  when  she  would  gladly 
have  sought  a  more  congenial  home. 

She  found  the  broken-hearted  father  in  the  last 
stages  of  consumption,  meekly  resigned,  but  longing  for 
the  sympathy  and  blessing  of  a  brother  clergyman. 
Not  many  days  after  the  discovery  of  her  friends, 
Charlotte,  by  Dr.  Walbridge's  request,  wrote  to  the 
Rev.  All-.  Clement,  begging  his  presence  at  the  dying 
bed. 

In  the  mean  time,  old  Mrs.  Freeman,  Charlotte's 
aunt,  in  looking  for  her  will,  having  heard  the  rumor 
that  Charlotte  had  come  on  as  her  heir,  had  fallen, 


THE    BECTOK'S    MARRIAGE.  321 

and  injured  herself  past  recovery.  The  niece  watched 
and  tended  her  captious  relative  like  a  daughter;  it 
never  suggesting  itself  to  her  truthful  mind,  till  Mrs. 
Walbridge  mentioned  it,  that  she  could  be  suspected 
of  worldly  motives  in  her  labors. 

In  a  short  time  her  letter  was  answered  by  the 
arrival  of  Mr.  Clement.  He  looked  inquiringly  on 
Charlotte's  pale  face  and  thin  figure,  when  a  voice 
from  an  inner  room  said,  captiously,  "  Do  bring  him 
in,  I  have  n't  seen  a  minister  these  ten  years." 

It  needed  but  a  short  stay  by  the  bedside  of  Mrs. 
Freeman,  to  convince  Mr.  Clement  of  the  life  of  self- 
denial  Miss  Morgan  had  endured  for  the  last  six 
months. 

Dr.  Walbridge  had  sent  for  his  brother  clergyman, 
to  give  into  his  charge  his  daughter  Anne.  Mrs.  Wal- 
bridge, more  indolent  and  self-indulgent  than  ever, 
seemed  relieved  at  the  thought  that  her  child  might 
be  provided  for  without  her  exertion,  while  she  could 
return  to  the  paternal  roof. 

Mr.  Clement,  disposed  to  do  all  for  the  child  that  he 
could,  consistently  with  other  duties,  promised  to  direct 
her  education  and  care  for  her  for  the  next  three  years, 
14*  u 


322  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

when  she  would  be  able  to  help  herself.  After  admin- 
istering the  consolations  of  religion  to  the  dying  man, 
he  returned  to  his  parish,  leaving  Anne  under  the 
watchful  guidance  of  Miss  Morgan,  till  death  should 
separate  her  from  her  father. 

The  mutual  care  of  this  child  led  to  a  correspond- 
ence which  resulted  in  a  better  acquaintance,  and  be- 
fore autumn  the  engagement  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Clement 
to  Miss  Morgan  was  made  public. 

Colonel  Clarendon  smiled  and  half  sighed,  as  he  said, 
"  Poor  Agatha ;  she  was  the  first  to  make  this  match." 

Charlotte's  durance  by  the  uncomfortable  couch  of 
ner  relative  did  not  continue  into  the  autumn.  The 
poor  creature  died,  as  she  had  lived,  clutching  the 
bunch  of  keys  that  lay  on  her  pillow. 

Her  will  gave  Charlotte  the  sum  of  one  hundred 
dollars,  while  the  remainder  of  her  large  property  was 
deeded  to  a  wealthy  college,  into  whose  coffers  the 
miser  pours  his  hoarded  wealth,  to  make  himself  a 
name,  when  he  can  keep  it  no  longer. 

In  answer  to  a  letter  from  Honora,  begging  her  to 
come  to  Woodland  and  prepare  for  her  marriage,  Char- 
lotte released  herself  from  Spring  Valley,  and,  with 


THE    RECTOR'S    MARRIAGE.  323 

Anne,  who  was  now  her  particular  charge,  came  again 
to  Rockridge. 

There  was  only  one  spirit  in  the  parish  that  openly 
rebelled  against  the  matrimonial  engagement  between 
the  Rector  and  Miss  Morgan.  All  the  devotion  of 
Eliza  Ridgway  to  the  little  dirty  children  her  pastor 
had  given  to  her  class ;  all  her  zealous  endeavors  to 
win  attention,  by  her  earnest  talks  about  religion;  all 
her  eloquent  admiration  of  the  preacher's  talents  ;  all 
her  tete-a-tete  conferences,  in  which  she  had  feelingly 
regretted  the  low  state  of  religion  in  the  parish,  —  all 
was  in  vain ;  he  had  not  been  won ;  he  was  positively 
engaged,  —  to  Miss  Morgan,  too  !  the  poor  governess,  — 
when  Eliza's  portion  of  her  father's  property  might 
have  been  his !  "  What  infatuation  !  what  ingratitude ! " 
thought  the  damsel,  as  she  entered  the  house  of  Mrs. 
Dobbin,  to  talk  it  over  with  her  dear  Ann  Matilda. 

We  must  now  pass  over  many  mouths  of  the  exist- 
ence of  our  friends  at  Rockridge,  with  but  brief  notice. 
Charlotte  Morgan,  quietly  married,  at  Michaelmas,  in 
the  parish  church,  was  settled  in  the  old  Rectory,  the 
people  never  having  united  on  the  spot  for  the  new 
one.  Anne  Walbridge,  separated  from  her  weak 
mother,  and  under  the  invigorating  guidance  of  her 


324  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

kind  guardians,  was  putting  forth  characteristics  that 
had  before  lain  dormant. 

The  Bird's  Nest,  with  its  patriarchal  head  and  re- 
united family,  presented  a  picture  of  quiet  domestic 
bliss.  Catherine  supported  her  father  by  designing,  in 
which  she  was  assisted  by  Robert,  who,  though  feeble, 
was  suffered  to  enjoy,  on  the  borders  of  life,  the  bless- 
ings of  home  and  friends.  Stella  still  received,  through 
the  generosity  of  the  Clarendons,  the  benefit  of  Mr. 
Clement's  instructions. 

Chauncey  Douglass  often  left  the  solitude  of  the 
farm  at  Oak  Bay  for  a  call  at  the  Bird's  Nest,  with 
game  and  fish  for  the  invalid.  It  was  rumored  among 
the  gossips  that  there  were  other  attractions;  but  none 
who  knew  the  pride  and  haughtiness  of  his  nature 
gave  credence  to  the  reports. 

Early  in  the  spring  following  Agatha's  departure, 
the  first  green  grave  was  made  in  the  chapel  yard  at 
the  Gorge,  and  in  it  was  laid  Papsy's  little  Harry,  hi 
all  his  innocent  beauty ;  the  young  mother  mourning 
deeply  for  the  bud  thus  broken,  although  Mrs.  Dobbin 
said,  "  She  ought  to  be  thankful  it  was  dead,"  and 
Miss  Eliza  Kidgway  gave  her  opinion,  that  ••  It  was  a 
great  mercy." 


THE    RECTOR'S    MARRIAGE.  325 

Gregory  Clarendon  gave  himself  wholly  to  study, 
hardly  taking  time  for  necessary  recreation.  He 
made  no  effort  to  communicate  with  Agatha.  After 
his  lessons  upon  submission  to  rightful  authority,  to 
tempt  her  to  disobey  would  be  a  poor  sequel  to  his 
instructions.  It  was  a  hard  lesson  to  submit  to  this 
restriction,  —  to  know  nothing  of  one  for  whom  he  had 
cared  so  deeply,  —  but  the  discipline  of  severe  study 
prevented  his  brooding  over  events  he  could  not  con- 
trol. His  ceremonious  calls  upon  General  Winches- 
ter's family  consumed  but  little  time.  Isabelle  excused 
herself,  and  Duncan  met  him  with  a  haughty,  con- 
temptuous bearing,  that  he  sometimes  found  difficult 
to  brook.  During  the  winter  Mr.  Douglass  had  come 
to  the  Winchesters,  and  plunged  into  every  gayety  of 
the  season.  Isabelle,  soured  and  disappointed,  worn 
with  excitement  and  dissipation,  bore  on  her  face 
already  the  lines  of  her  life.  She  had  lost  that  spark- 
ling, bubbling  flow  of  spirits ;  or  rather  it  was  changed 
into  bitter,  cutting  sarcasm,  that  cast  its  arrows  right 
and  left  indiscriminately.  Her  train  of  admirers  was 
not  diminished,  but  they  were  no  longer  the  young 
and  the  noble  ;  they  were  the  shrewd  man  of  the 
world,  the  worn,  the  cold-hearted. 


326  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    XLI. 

ST.   ACNE'S. 

"  My  soul  is  like  a  bird,  my  flesh  the  cage 
Wherein  she  wears  her  weary  pilgrimage. 
The  keys  that  lock  her  in,  and  let  her  out, 
Are  birth  and  death;  'twixt  both  she  hops  about, 
From  perch  to  perch,  from  sense  to  reason, 
Then  from  higher  reason  down  to  sense  again. 
From  sense  she  climbs  to  faith,  where  for  a  season 
She  sits  and  sings;  then  down  again  to  reason; 
From  reason  back  to  faith,  and  straight  from  thence 
She  rudely  flutters  to  the  perch  of  sense." 

QUAKLES. 

IN  THE  mean  time,  while  Isabelle  was  reaping 
the  fruits  of  her  undisciplined,  self-indulgent  life, 
Agatha  was  under  the  supervision  of  the  Sisters  of  St. 
Anne's.  Her  first  feelings  after  being  torn  from  her 
home  were  those  of  indignation,  but  they  were  sad- 
dened, softened,  by  the  memory  of  the  grief  she  knew 
must  be  in  the  hearts  of  those  she  had  left.  The  as- 
siduities and  kindness  of  her  teachers  soon  brought  out 


ST.    ANNE'S.  327 

her  affectionate  nature.  She  had  here  opportunities  for 
improving  her  education ;  and,  exceedingly  fond  of  study, 
earnest  and  hopeful,  she  did  not  long  mourn  over  the 
past.  Protestants  justly  fear  Romish  schools  for  their 
children ;  but  it  is  not  by  argument  or  discussion  that 
their  young  minds  are  impressed,  but  by  the  novelty, 
and  the  beauty  of  the  self-denying,  devoted  lives  of  the 
Sisters.  Agatha,  however,  had  seen  the  "higher  life," 
as  exhibited  in  the  daily  walk  of  the  Clarendons  and 
Fergusons,  who,  "  though  in  the  world,  were  not  of  it." 
She  made  many  pleasant  acquaintances  during  her 
stay  at  St.  Anne's,  but  her  dear  Stella  was  never  for- 
gotten for  the  daughters  of  the  noble  families  of 
Maryland  and  Virginia.  More  than  two  years  of 
Agatha's  life  were  spent  in  this  house.  To  none 
would  two  years  bring  more  changes  than  to  the  girl 
from  fifteen  to  seventeen.  Her  figure  increased  rapidly 
in  height,  and  to  the  graces  of  girlhood  was  added  the 
roundness  of  womanhood.  The  quiet,  even  discipline 
of  the  convent  served  to  strengthen  her  in  the  prin- 
ciples of  self-government.  During  her  long  sojourn,  she 
left  the  place  but  once,  —  a  vacation  spent  in  "Wash- 
ington with  one  of  her  schoolmates.  Her  uncle  visited 


828  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

her  occasionally;  but  she  could  obtain  from  him  no  in- 
formation of  those  she  loved  best.  He  could  tell  her 
of  General  Winchester's  family,  of  Isabelle's  attractions, 
or  Duncan's  advancement  to  a  post  of  honor;  but  from 
Rockridge  he  brought  only  one  piece  of  news,  —  that 
Julia  Ridgway  had  eloped  with  the  village  school- 
master. "Whether  they  were  married,"  he  added, 
"  was  a  matter  of  uncertainty." 

One  lovely  afternoon  in  April,  Agatha  walked  the 
terrace  at  St.  Anne's  in  mournful  contemplation.  Her 
uncle  had  been  there  the  week  previous,  and  brought 
her  intelligence  that  had  cut  off  from  her  hopeful  na- 
ture the  thought  she  had  always  cherished,  that  her 
own  earliest  friends  would  some  time  be  restored  to 
her.  Her  father  had  lost  his  life  in  his  search  for 
gold,  and  her  only  sister  had  died  from  the  effects  of 
the  climate ;  but  sadder  yet  to  Agatha  was  the  news 
of  her  mother's  hasty  second  marriage,  in  that  far-off 
land.  All  this  had  served  to  add  to  the  melancholy 
that  was  slowly  creeping  over  the  natural  joyousness 
of  her  young  heart.  The  monotony  of  convent  life 
had  become  tedious,  and  her  affections  reached  forth 
for  something  beyond  those  walls.  She  had  been 


ST.    ANNE'S.  329 

watching  the  brilliant  panorama  before  her.  The  vel- 
vet green  of  spring  had  tinted  the  broad  lawn  that 
swept  away  to  the  banks  of  the  bay.  The  city,  in  the 
dim  distance,  with  its  many  sparkling  domes  and  spires, 
shone  like  a  diamond  set  in  emeralds  of  living  green. 
The  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  horizon,  and  golden 
and  purple  shadows  played  over  the  surface  of  the 
blue  waters.  Agatha  leaned  her  head  against  one  of 
the  massive  pillars  that  supported  the  balcony.  Her 
heart  beat  to  the  pulsations  of  sorrow,  when  a  gentle 
hand  was  laid  on  her  neck,  and  a  soft  voice  whispered, 
"  Daughter,  you  are  sad.  Can  I  comfort  you  ? " 

"  No,  sister,"  replied  Agatha,  "  I  am  homesick ;  my 
heart  yearns  for  my  long-absent  friends." 

"  The  world  then  still  looks  lovely  to  you,  daugh- 
ter ? "  was  the  reply.  "  I  hoped  that  to  one  so  ear- 
nest for  the  right  as  my  darling  Agatha,  the  conse- 
cration of  her  life  to  her  loving  mother,  the  Church, 
might  have  some  attractions.  Yes,  the  world  is  beau- 
tiful, and  friends  are  very  dear;  but  oh!"  she  said, 
clasping  her  hands  over  the  crucifix  she  held,  and 
raising  her  eyes  to  heaven,  "  there  is  a  brighter  world, 
and  dearer  watching  friends, — a  world  that  never  grows 


330  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

old,  and  friends  that  never  fail."  Agatha  sunk  upon 
the  neck  of  Sister  Clarice,  and  sobbed  violently. 

"And  you  long  to  leave  us,  dear  child?"  she  con- 
tinued, soothingly ;  "  perhaps  the  tune  may  come  sooner 
than  you  expect;  and  when  you  are  gone,  and  the 
world's  waves  beat  over  you,  and  temptations  assail 
you,  and  your  frail,  unguided  bark  is  driven  hither 
and  thither,  Sister  Clarice  will  still  pray  for  you,  and 
you  may  even  then  turn  to  the  shelter  the  Church 
offers  you,  and  be  at  rest." 

"It  may  be  too  late  then,"  said  a  solemn  voice  from 
behind ;  and  a  tall,  gaunt  female  figure,  dressed  in  the 
long  black  uniform  of  the  sisters,  swept  on  without 
another  word.  Sister  Clarice  held  the  trembling  form 
of  Agatha  to  her  heart  in  silence. 

For  the  last  year,  finding  themselves  unmolested  in 
their  efforts,  the  nuns  had  sought  to  win  to  the  bosom 
of  the  Romish  Church  one  so  promising  as  Agatha. 
They  had  first  endeavored  to  alarm  her  with  the  dan- 
ger of  living  unbaptized,  and  begged  her  to  receive 
that  sacrament  at  the  hands  of  a  priest,  assuring  her 
that  all  her  friends  would  consider  that  valid  baptism. 
They  had  rendered  her  uneasy  and  unhappy,  though 


ST.    ANNE'S.  331 

they  had  not  gained  their  point.  She  was  wrestling 
sorely  with  the  temptation  to  take  this  step,  which 
was  represented  to  her  as  the  only  one  that  would 
secure  her  salvation,  when  there  came  a  summons  to 
her  from  the  Lady  Superior. 

Did  the  deep  flush  that  overspread  her  features,  as 
she  sunk  into  a  chair,  after  she  had  heard  the  com- 
mands of  the  Superior,  denote  pain  at  the  intelligence 
that  her  uncle  lay  at  the  point  of  death;  or  joy,  that 
the  bondage  she  had  begun  to  feel  was  about  to  termi- 
nate? 

A  messenger  would  convey  her  to  New  York  by  the 
first  train  of  cars.  She  had  not  given  a  thought  as  to 
who  would  be  the  probable  person  whom  they  would 
send  for  her,  and  her  indignation  was  visible  in  the 
haughty  manner  with  which  she  met  Duncan  Winches- 
ter. They  had  both  changed,  certainly  in  externals, 
since  they  parted.  His  dress  and  appearance  bespoke 
him  a  man  of  the  world,  —  one  who  had  seen  good  soci- 
ety,—  and  the  look  of  admiration  with  which  he  met 
her  was  somewhat  modified  by  her  cold  greeting. 

From  Duncan  she  learned,  after  the  first  distance 
had  worn  away,  that  her  uncle  had  spent  a  winter  oi 


332  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

dissipation,  —  proper,  fashionable  dissipation.  He  was 
leading  a  dance  with  Isabelle,  at  a  fancy  ball,  when 
he  was  seized  with  the  illness  that  promised  to  be  his 
death,  of  the  nature  of  apoplexy. 

Agatha  was  prepared  for  her  uncle's  appearance,  but 
she  was  shocked  when  she  met  Isabelle.  The  bril- 
liant bloom  was  gone  from  her  cheeks  and  lips,  her 
eyes  had  lost  their  mellowness  of  expression,  and  in 
its  place  was  a  sharp,  withering  look.  She  was  very 
thin,  and  her  voice  and  manner  were  cold  and  repel- 
ling. Nevertheless  she  made  an  effort  to  meet  Agatha 
kindly,  and  looked  down  into  the  depths  of  those  pure 
eyes  with  a  look  that  made  her  blush  and  turn  away. 

"  Aggie,  my  child,"  she  said,  when  they  were  alone ; 
"did  Duncan  tell  you  that  you  and  I  were  to  be  re- 
lated by  marriage  if  — " 

"Never,"  said  Agatha,  in  her  old  proud  way,  draw- 
ing herself  up  to  her  full  height,  which  was  by  no 
means  contemptible. 

"  Hush,  dear ! "  said  Isabelle,  placing  her  finger  on 
Agatha's  arm;  "you  don't  understand  me.  You 
were  — " 

"Isabelle,"    replied    Agatha,    turning    away    hastily, 


ST.    ANNE'S.  333 

"unless  this  subject  is  dropped,  I  must,  I  will  refuse 
to  listen." 

Isabelle  laughed  a  faint,  hollow  laugh,  like  the  knock- 
ing on  a  coffin-lid. 

"Agatha,  child,  don't  be  so  hasty!  I  wished  to  tell 
you  that  your  uncle  and  I  were  engaged." 

"  Impossible  !  "  replied  Agatha,  in  a  horror-stricken 
voice. 

"  It  is  true,  nevertheless,"  said  Isabelle.  "  We  were 
to  have  been  married  after  Easter,  and  I  was  to  pre- 
pare Maple  Cliff,  and  send  for  you  home.  A  pleasant 
surprise,  you  know,  darling  ?  " 

Agatha  could  not  reply ;  she  sunk  down  on  the  floor, 
and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

The  subject  was  never  mentioned  to  her  again;  she 
always  checked  the  introduction  of  it  in  a  summary 
way. 


334  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY, 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

BE  TURN  TO  MAPLE  CLEFF. 

"  Happy  thou  art  not, 

For  what  thou  hast  not,  still  thou  strivest  to  get, 
And  what  thou  hast  forget'st. 

Friend  hast  thou  none. 
Thou  hast  nor  youth  nor  age, 
But  as  it  were  an  after-dinner's  sleep." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

"  Let  me  deem  that 

Some  unknown  influence,  some  sweet  oracle, 
Communicates  between  us,  though  unseen, 
In  absence,  and  attracts  us  to  each  other." 

A  GATHA'S  EASE  and  self-possession,  which 
_/JL  had  matured  with  the  rest  of  her  character, 
were  of  great  service  in  her  present  position.  She 
wrote  at  once,  consulting  only  General  Winchester,  to 
Honora,  requesting  her,  with  the  freedom  of  a  friend, 
to  have  Maple  Cliff  put  in  readiness  for  the  reception 
of  her  uncle ;  physicians  ordered  change  of  air. 


RETURN    TO    MAPLE   CLIFF.  335 

Honora  and  Gregory  (who  was  at  home  for  the  Eas- 
ter holidays)  read  the  letter  together,  Gregory  looking 
into  her  beaming  eyes  as  he  closed,  and  saying,  "  Our 
own  Agatha  still ;  God  be  praised ! "  A  new  life  was 
infused  into  the  household  by  the  intelligence.  Papsy's 
sorrowful  face  betokened  a  shade  of  pleasure,  and  she 
was  foremost  in  making  ready  rooms  for  her  "little 
missus."  It  was  her  first  entrance  into  Maple  Cliff, 
since  she  had  been  so  cruelly  driven  from  there;  and 
no  persuasions  of  her  best  friends  could  induce  her  to 
stay  there  alone  after  dark.  The  remains  of  early  su- 
perstitions hung  about  her  heart,  and  Heaven's  light 
alone  could  dissipate  them. 

Duncan  Winchester  now  more  than  ever  desired 
to  make  Agatha  his  wife.  He  did  love  her,  with  the 
love  of  a  proud,  selfish  heart,  and  had  imagined, 
because  her  haughty  mood  had  given  way  before  his 
devotion,  that  she  was  not  indifferent  to  him.  Never- 
theless, so  proper  and  dignified  was  she,  and  so  con- 
stantly occupied  with  her  uncle,  that  no  opportunity 
offered  of  renewing  his  addresses  during  her  "§tay  in 
New  York. 

"Sister,"  said  Clarendon,  the  morning  Mr.  Douglass 


336  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

was  expected,  "  will  you  go  to  the  cars  with  me,  to 
meet  Agatha?  They  come  back  to  Maple  Cliff;  the 
non-intercourse  system  must  necessarily  fall  to  the 
ground." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Honora,  "  Enfeebled  as  Mr. 
Douglass  is,  mind  and  body,  Agatha  will  need  friends 
more  than  ever.  Poor  man !  what  a  life  he  has  led ! 
But  do  you  believe  this  story  of  an  engagement  be- 
tween him  and  Isabelle?" 

"I  had  it  direct  from  Dudley,"  replied  Gregory. 
"  I  hope  Agatha  may  never  know  it.  It  may  be  the 
means  of  bringing  the  Winchesters  to  Rockridge,  which 
will  not  be  very  desirable." 

"  Isabelle  would  not  come  under  the  circumstances," 
said  Honora. 

"  O  sister ! "  he  replied,  "  you  still  have  faith  in  that 
woman.  She  would  not  scruple  at  anything  to  carry 
out  her  plans." 

The  journey  fatigued  Mr.  Douglass,  and  it  was 
many  days  before  Agatha  could  leave  his  room,  ex- 
cept at  long  intervals.  Her  friends  were  all  devotion 
and  kindness.  Gregory  called  daily,  during  the  re- 
mainder of  his  vacation,  asked  after  her  studies,  and 


RETURN    TO    MAPLE    CLIFF.  337 

expressed  his  sympathy  for  her,  in  the  same  gentle, 
manly  way  she  remembered  when  she  came  a  stranger 
to  Maple  Cliff.  He  returned  to  New  York,  for  his 
last  term  at  the  Seminary,  with  a  light  heart.  The 
one  whose  absence  he  had  mourned  was  restored  to 
him,  —  no  longer  a  child,  but  a  woman,  with  the  same- 
childlike  confidence  and  trust  in  his  word.  And  yet 
she  did  not  come  and  rest  her  head  on  his  shoulder, 
as  she  used  to.  He  could  hardly  decide  in  his  own 
mind  whether  he  wished  she  would. 

As  the  spring  advanced,  the  mind  of  Mr.  Douglass 
grew  brighter;  but  from  his  memory  had  faded  all 
the  events  that  had  transpired  since  his  return  from 
Scotland.  He  inquired  for  his  nephew,  and  when 
Chauncey  came  to  his  room,  he  called  up  a  deep 
blush,  and  haughty  curl  of  the  lip,  by  asking  him,  "  If 
it  was  true,  as  Tom  Ridgway  had  said,  that  Miss 
Morgan  and  he  were  to  be  married  soon."  Agatha 
explained  to  him,  that  Charlotte  was  now  Mrs.  Clem- 
ent ;  but  of  Mr.  Clement  he  had  no  recollection. 

One  sunny  afternoon  in  July,  the  chair  of  Mr. 
Douglass  had  been  wheeled,  for  the  first  time,  into 
the  library,  which  opened,  with  its  low  windows,  to 
15  V 


838  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

the  east.  Poor  wreck  of  manhood !  his  ghastly  fea- 
tures distorted  by  disease,  and  his  gaunt  figure  bent 
with  infirmities.  Agatha  watched  by  her  uncle,  her 
heart  gladdened  with  the  presence  of  her  dear  Honora, 
who  had  come  to  say  that  she  expected  her  brother 
in  the  evening  train. 

With  returning  consciousness  had  revived  her  uncle's 
old  habit  of  domineering,  and  his  niece  was  rarely 
permitted  to  be  long  out  of  sight. 

"  Agatha,  child ! "  he  said,  in  a  sharp  tone,  as  Hon- 
ora went  out,  "bring  me  the  papers,  the  papers." 

"What  papers,  uncle?"  was  the  reply. 

"  Her  papers !  her  papers ! "  said  the  old  man,  ner- 
vously clutching  her  arm.  "Her  papers,  her  desk,  —  go 
get  it  child  !  " 

Agatha  waited  a  moment  meditating  if  she  under- 
stood aright,  and  then  tripped  up  stairs,  calling  to  a 
servant  to  remain  with  her  uncle.  She  felt  a  little 
timid  as  she  turned  the  key  of  the  room  that  had 
been  so  long  desolate.  Everything  was  as  Mrs.  Doug- 
lass had  left  it,  even  to  a  morning  wrapper  that  hung 
on  a  chair  by  the  bedside.  It  was  like  entering  a 
tomb.  Agatha  hurriedly  took  the  writing-desk  from 


RETURN    TO    MAPLE    CLIFF.  339 

the  table ;  it  was  unlocked,  and  as  she  lifted  it,  a  letter 
fell  from  between  the  lids.  She  started  back  as  if  she 
had  seen  the  pale,  meagre  face  of  her  dead  aunt,  when 
she  stooped  to  raise  the  letter.  It  was  directed  to  Miss 
Agatha  Douglass.  Collecting  her  thoughts  as  well  as 
she  could,  she  put  the  strange  epistle  into  her  pocket, 
and  hastened  to  her  uncle  with  the  desk. 

"  Let  it  alone,  child ;  let  it  alone,"  he  said,  as  he 
tried  to  snatch  it  from  her;  but  his  trembling  hands 
refused  their  office,  and  it  dropped  into  a  chair  by  his 
side. 

"  Read  the  headings  of  these  papers ! "  he  said,  sink- 
ing back  exhausted,  as  he  handed  her  a  bundle  from 
the  desk. 

Agatha  read:  "Certificates  of  Stock  in  Bank  of 
Montreal ;  —  Deed  of  House-Lot  on  King  Street ;  — 
House-Lot  on  Duchess  Street ;  —  Wood-Lot  in  Dis- 
trict of  Montreal ;  —  Mortgage  on  Estate  in  Quebec ;  — 
Will  of  Robert  Ferguson  "  

"That's  it!  That's  it!"  gasped  the  old  man,  eager- 
ly. "  Give  it  to  me,  give  it  to  me,  I  say  ! " 

Although  untrained  in  deception,  her  knowledge  of 
her  uncle's  character,  and  the  name  on  the  will,  made 


340  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

Agatha  hesitate ;  something  held  her  back,  and  she  put 
another  paper  into  his  hand.  "With  a  low  chuckle  of 
delight,  he  tore  it  into  many  pieces. 

"  Now  let  them  prove  it  if  they  can  ! "  he  said,  as 
he  pushed  the  desk  from  him.  "  Put  it  up,  Agatha ; 
the  rest  are  nothing  but  diaries  and  journals  of  a  life 
that  had  better  never  have  been." 

The  young  girl  dropped  a  tear  to  the  memory  of 
the  broken  heart  whose  records  she  now  held  in  her 
hand,  and,  putting  by  the  desk,  placed  the  will  of  Rob- 
ert Ferguson  with  the  strange  letter. 

"  Now  the  money  and  land  will  all  be  yours,  duck," 
said  the  old  man,  with  a  silly  laugh.  "  It  is  all  in  my 
name  now.  Every  dollar  of  it  shall  be  yours.  These 
strange  people  might  turn  up  relations.  That  would 
be  inconvenient." 

Agatha  had  been  broken  of  her  rest  for  several 
nights;  nevertheless,  when,  after  satisfying  all  the  de- 
mands of  her  uncle,  she  retired  to  her  room  about 
midnight,  it  was  not  to  sleep.  The  letter  and  will 
claimed  her  attention.  The  first  was  written  while  her 
uncle  was  in  Scotland,  not  long  before  the  death  of 
her  aunt,  and  it  was  signed  "  Ermina  Douglass."  It 


RETURN    TO    MAPLE    CLIFF.  341 

called  upon  Agatha,  as  heir  of  her  uncle's  property, 
to  get  possession  of  the  will  of  Robert  Ferguson  in 
the  desk,  wherein  she  would  find  who  had  claims  on 
the  property  besides  herself.  Then  followed  a  detailed 
account  of  her  brother,  Frank  Ferguson,  his  marriage 
to  an  English  girl,  by  name  Catherine  Walton.  Last 
of  all,  the  letter  urged  upon  Agatha  the  claims  of 
Papsy,  saying,  in  mysterious  language,  that  she  had  a 
right  due  from  Mr.  Douglass  at  least  for  a  home. 
When  Agatha  had  finished  the  letter,  she  read  the 
will.  After  the  usual  formula,  it  gave  the  bulk  of 
Robert  Ferguson's  property  to  his  widow,  and,  at  her 
decease,  to  his  daughter,  Ermina  Ferguson.  There 
was  a  codicil,  dated  some  three  years  after  the  will, 
which  gave  five  thousand  pounds  to  his  son,  Frank 
Ferguson,  married  to  Catherine  Walton,  and  living  in 
Shropshire,  England. 

Agatha  closed  the  papers  with  new  and  strange 
thoughts.  The  Fergusons  were  her  relatives,  and  the 
property  that  was  theirs,  but  for  the  finding  of  this 
paper,  would  have  passed  into  her  hands.  She  thanked 
God,  who  had  kept  her  from  defrauding  the  poor. 

She  felt  that  she  ought  to  act  at  once,  and  yet  she 


342  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

knew  that  all  must  be  done  judiciously,  coolly.  Wholly 
unacquainted  with  business,  she  looked  around  for  some 
one  to  consult  Her  early  friend  and  adviser  at  once 
came  to  her  thoughts,  and  a  blush  dyed  her  neck  and 
arms ;  and  then  she  chided  herself  for  blushing,  ques- 
tioning with  herself  what  he  was  to  her,  except  like 
a  very  dear  brother.  Her  dreams,  when  at  last  she 
fell  asleep,  were  of  a  compound  of  wills,  letters,  and 
deeds,  scattered  over  the  library  floor,  and  she  was  to 
arrange  them.  In  the  midst  of  the  confusion,  a  low 
voice  whispered,  "  Can  I  help  you,  Agatha  ? "  She 
turned,  and  Gregory's  bright  smile  met  hers.  She 
awoke  with  a  start ;  the  maid  was  by  her  side  trem- 
bling violently ;  her  uncle  was  seized  again  with  apo- 
plexy. Without  a  moment's  hesitation  she  despatched 
one  servant  for  the  physician,  and  another  for  Ho- 
nora ;  she  could  not  bear  the  dreadful  sight  before  her 
without  a  friend. 

But  a  few  moments  elapsed  before  steps  were  heard 
in  the  hall  and  the  tread  of  a  man  on  the  stairway. 
Honora  entered  with  her  brother,  who  had  returned 
from  New  York  too  late  in  the  evening  for  a  call  at 
Maple  Cliff.  He  raised  the  sick  man  from  the  very 


RETURN    TO    MAPLE    CLIFF.  343 

low  position  in  which  he  had  fallen,  and  anxiously 
watched,  with  his  finger  on  the  pulse,  while  Doctor 
Woodbury  took  blood  from  the  arm.  The  excitement 
and  fatigue  of  the  spring  and  summer  had  worn  upon 
Agatha,  and,  as  she  stood  silently  noting  the  black 
drop-,  as  they  fell  from  the  vein,  her  head  swain,  —  she 
had  just  strength  to  say,  "  I  am  faint."  Gregory  car- 
ried her  into  the  hall,  and  Honora  stood  over  her, 
bathing  her  forehead  and  hands  till  she  revived. 

"  You  are  worn  with  watching,  Agatha,"  said  Greg- 
ory, as  she  strove  to  rise.  "  Lie  still,  dear  child,  till 
you  are  stronger;  there  are  plenty  of  persons  in  the 
sick-room." 

Agatha  rested  her  head  on  a  couch  in  the  oriel 
window.  The  lamps  that  lighted  the  hall  cast  but  a 
faint  gleam  into  the  recess.  Honora  was  called  into 
the  chamber,  and  Agatha  strove  again  to  rise;  but  she 
was  still  faint,  and  obliged  to  rest  her  head  against 
the  window  for  support. 

"My  dear  Agatha,"  said  Gregory  earnestly,  "do 
you  wish  me  to  leave  you,  or  may  we  be  to  each 
other  what  we  were  when  you  left  Maple  Cliff  ?  " 

"  Dear   Cousin    Gregory,"  she   replied,   bursting   into 


344  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

tears,  "  if  I  could  be  '  little  Aggie '  as  I  was  then, 
I  should  be  so  happy.  Home  does  not  seem  home 
without  it." 

"It  shall  be  so  again,  Agatha,"  he  said,  taking  her 
hand  in  his.  "  There  shall  be  no  barrier  of  reserve 
between  us.  You  shall  talk  to  me  as  you  did  when 
you  were  just  up  to  my  elbow.  But  first  we  must 
break  up  this  watching  and  confinement.  I  am  sur- 
prised that  you  have  endured  it  so  long.  Don't  you 
think,"  he  added  to  Honora,  who  came  out  at  that 
moment,  "  that  Papsy  might  come  over  now  and  re- 
lieve Agatha  of  a  part  of  this  care  ?  " 

Honora  assented  warmly  to  her  brother's  remark, 
and  then  informed  them  that  the  doctor  thought  Mr. 
Douglass  might  be  restored  to  feeble  consciousness,  but 
would  probably  never  leave  his  chamber. 

Agatha  had  feared  the  effect  of  Papsy's  presence  on 
her  uncle ;  but  the  mind  was  too  far  sunk  into  obliv- 
ion to  recall  the  past,  and,  knowing  as  the  girl  did 
all  Mr.  Douglass's  ways,  and  the  ways  and  means  of 
the  household,  Agatha  was  relieved  in  a  measure  of 
her  life  of  servitude. 


A    VISIT    TO    OAK    BAY.  345 


CHAPTER    XLIII. 

A  VISIT  TO  OAK  BAY. 

"  0,  woman  is  a  tender  tree ! 
The  hand  must  gentle  be  that  rears 
Through  storm  and  sunshine  patiently 
That  plant  of  grace,  of  smiles  and  tears. 
Let  her  that  waters  at  the  font 
Life's  earliest  blossoms  have  the  care, 
And  where  the  garden's  Lord  is  wont 
To  walk  His  round,  —  O,  keep  her  there!" 

A.  C.  COXK. 

HAVE  COME  to  take  you  by  force  of  arms," 
said  Gregory,  smiling,  as  Agatha  ran  down  from 
her  uncle's  chamber  to  meet  his  sister  and  himself. 
"  Honora  is  here  to  sit  with  Mr.  Douglass,  while  you 
go  to  ride  with  me,  as  a  matter  of  duty." 

He  took  the  road  to  the  chapel  in  the  Gorge,  which 

Agatha  had  never  seen.     It  was   a  little   gem  in  its 

way,  that  Chapel  of  St.  Mary.     The  front  porch  with 

its   bell-gable,  surmounted   by  the   precious    emblem  of 

15* 


346  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

our  faith,  was  visible  from  every  part  of  the  valley ; 
while  the  tall  monarchs  of  the  forest,  in  their  pristine 
beauty  and  grandeur,  spread  their  arms  over  the  roof, 
and  shadowed  the  enclosed  burial-yard. 

Within,  all  was  plain,  neat,  and  appropriate,  designed 
mainly  for  the  poor,  but  furnished  with  everything  a 
true  worshipper  would  need. 

"I  would  like  to  worship  here,"  said  Agatha,  in  a 
low  tone,  as  she  stood  by  the  chancel-rail. 

"  Would  you  ? "  replied  Gregory,  with  evident  pleas- 
ure. "I  am  glad  you  like  it.  Do  you  know,  Agatha, 
it  was  one  of  my  boyhood's  dreams,  and  has  been  the 
desire  of  my  manhood,  to  break  the  bread  of  life  to 
these  poor  people,  whom  I  have  known  always." 

"  A  very  pleasant  vision,"  replied  Agatha,  —  and  then 
followed  a  long  pause. 

"  Cousin  Gregory,"  she  said  at  length,  looking  into 
his  face  with  that  full  confidence  that  had  always 
marked  their  intercourse,  "  do  you  think  Mr.  Clement 
would  be  willing  I  should  come  here  to  be  baptized  ? " 

"  I  see  no  reason  why  he  should  not  willingly,  nay, 
gladly  receive  you  here,"  replied  the  young  man,  tak- 
ing both  her  hands.  "  And  you  will  come  ?  " 


A    VISIT    TO    OAK    BAY.  347 

"I  will"  she  said  gently. 

They  knelt  in  silence  at  the  chancel-rail,  one  pre- 
paring for  an  entrance  into  Holy  Orders,  the  other 
seeking  Holy  Baptism. 

"  There  is  one  ride  I  would  like  to  take  before  that 
time,"  said  Agatha,  as  they  stepped  into  the  chaise  at 
the  chapel  gate. 

"  To  Oak  Bay,"  replied  Clarendon,  as  if  reading  her 
thoughts.  "There  is  ample  time  now,"  he  added,  look- 
ing at  his  watch,  "and  we  have  the  day  before  us." 

It  was  a  clear  July  day,  reminding  Agatha  strongly 
of  a  day  four  years  before,  when  she  came  first  under 
Clarendon's  guidance.  He  thought  of  that  time  also, 
and  of  the  many  changes  those  four  years  had  brought. 
He  longed  to  make  known  to  Agatha  the  depth  and 
extent  of  his  affection  for  her.  He  feared  she  re- 
garded him  only  as  a  brother,  he  was  quite  sure  she 
had  never  thought  of  him  in  a  nearer  relation ;  and 
yet  he  would  not  make  his  confession  now,  while  she 
was  contemplating,  and  ought  to  have  continually  be- 
fore her,  an  entrance  into  a  higher  life.  Such  a  decla- 
ration could  not  but  disturb  her  thoughts;  therefore  he 
forbade  himself  to  improve  this  favorable  opportunity. 


348  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.     MARY. 

As  they  came  round  the  bend  of  the  bay,  by  her 
request  he  stopped  the  horse,  while  they  walked  along 
the  shore.  Agatha  stepped  thoughtfully,  shading  her 
eyes  with  her  hand,  and  looking  far  out  over  the 
waters. 

"Gregory,"  she  said,  turning  eagerly  towards  him,  as 
they  came  where  a  boat  was  moored,  "could  you  row 
me  to  the  very  spot  1 "  Her  face  was  pale,  and  her 
eyes  larger  than  ever,  as  she  spoke. 

"Yes,  Agatha,  if  you  wish  it,"  he  replied.  "But 
you  are  agitated  already ;  I  am  afraid  a  nearer  view 
would  quite  overcome  you." 

He  spoke  low,  and  his  voice  trembled,  but  the  old 
will  was  there,  and  she  stepped  firmly  into  the  boat, 
he  following  in  silence. 

It  was  a  long  and  silent  row ;  and  when  Clarendon 
rested  on  the  oars,  she  knew  by  his  compressed  Up 
that  they  were  very  near  the  scene  of  the  accident. 
She  leaned  over  the  side  of  the  vessel,  and  gazed 
down  into  those  deep,  blue  waters,  that  had  so  nearly 
been  her  grave.  When  the  waves  had  closed  over 
her  head,  she  had  made  a  vow  that  she  was  now  pre- 
pared to  ratify  before  the  world,  and  she  wished  to 


A    VISIT    TO    OAK    BAY.  349 

grave  that  spot  upon  her  memory  as  with  the  point 
of  a  diamond. 

She  remained  thus  lost  in  thought,  till  Gregory 
raised  her,  saying,  "  My  dear  Agatha,  I  can  bear  this 
no  longer." 

"  You  saved  my  life  ! "  she  said,  slowly  and  ear- 
nestly. 

Powerful  was  the  temptation  then  and  there  to  tell 
her  the  love  that  nerved  his  arm  in  that  dreadful  mo- 
ment ;  to  paint  the  feelings  with  whioh  he  watched 
the  slow  return  to  consciousness  ;  how  he  had  curbed 
his  will  during  her  long  exile  from  home  and  friends. 
It  was  a  struggle  that  caused  him  to  turn  away  his 
face,  and  work  rapidly  and  in  silence  at  the  oars. 
He  spoke  not  till  the  boat  was  moored  at  the  land- 
ing, when,  lifting  her  in  his  arms  to  the  shore,  he  whis- 
pered, "Forgive  me,  dear,  if  I  was  rude  just  now;  I 
cannot  speak  or  think  calmly  of  that  hour  of  agony." 

His  hand  trembled  as  he  held  hers,  and  a  glimpse 
of  the  truth  came  darting  into  her  soul,  like  the  first 
sunbeam  into  the  bosom  of  the  unfolding  rosebud. 

True  to  her  womanly  nature,  she  sought  to  conceal 
the  light  she  had  gained,  and  commenced,  much  to  the 


350  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.   MARY. 

astonishment  of  Gregory,  talking  zealously  oil  indiffVr- 
ent  subjects,  as  they  rode  rapidly  to  the  bridge  that 
would  carry  them  over  to  Chauncey's  Gum-house.  The 
ruse  succeeded,  and  before  many  minutes  they  were 
chatting  cheerfully,  as  if  they  had  never  been  over- 
come with  deep  emotion. 

"Is  it  possible  that  is  the  old  house  I  used  to  call 
the  salt-box  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  as  they  approached  the 
farm-house. 

"  The  same  still,"  replied  Gregory  laughing.  "  Paint 
and  carpenters'  work  have  made  it  habitable,  and  that 
low  stoop  in  front,  and  long  piazza  toward  the  water, 
give  it  a  look  quite  ornee.  They  say,"  he  added,  look- 
ing into  Agatha's  flushed  face,  "  that  Chauncey  tires 
of  his  bachelor's  life  !  " 

"I  knew,"  she  said,  clapping  her  hands  and  laugh- 
ing, "  that  these  improvements  were  not  his.  Some 
woman's  hand !  Look,  how  neat  the  door-yard !  But 
who  is  it,  pray  ?  Anybody  in  Rockridge  ?  " 

"I  leave  you  to  guess,  little  chatterbox,"  replied  Gregory. 

"  Let  me  see ! "  she  said,  putting  her  hand  to  her 
head,  with  mock  gravity.  "  I  don't  know  a  girl  in 
Rockridge  Chauncey  would  marry  !  " 


A    VISIT    TO    OAK    BAY.  351 

"  Don't  be  sure,  Aggie ;  you  have  not  mentioned  your 
dear  Stella." 

"  Stella  !  "  she  replied  hastily  ;  "  0,  she  could  n't 
marry  Chauncey  ! " 

"  Why  not  ? "  said   Gregory,  enjoying  her  confusion. 

"  O,  because  —  because  —  I  must  not  tell  you,  but  she 
could  not." 

"  Some  little  girl's  fancy,  ah  ?  "  said  he.  "  You  are 
remarkably  stupid  not  to  have  thought  of  Catherine." 

"  Catherine  Ferguson  !  "  exclaimed  she.  "  I  never 
thought  of  her  marrying." 

"You  forget  you  once  recommended  her  to  me,"  re- 
plied Gregory ;  then  adding  more  soberly,  "  But  it  is 
really  true;  Chauncey  is  engaged  to  Catherine.  They 
would  have  been  married  in  Spring,  only  she  could  not 
leave  Robert  in  his  low  state." 

"And  Chauncey  never  told  me,"  she  said,  a  little 
displeased. 

"  They  preferred  keeping  their  plans  to  themselves," 
he  replied.  "I  heard  of  it  accidentally,  and  tell  you 
because  you  have  a  right  to  know.  Chauncey  is  proud, 
and  exceedingly  sensitive,  and  the  Fergusons  are  very 
poor ;  and  though  Chauncey  loves  Catherine,  he  feels 


352  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

deeply  the  truth  that  the  family  were  brought  here 
from  the  dregs  of  society.  What  a  hinderance  to  one's 
comfort  is  pride  ! " 

He  looked  at  his  companion  as  he  spoke ;  she 
leaned  wearily  against  the  side  of  the  carriage. 

"  You  are  fatigued,"  he  said,  hastily. 

"No,"  she  replied,  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  as 
he  reined  in  his  horse ;  "  not  faint,  not  wearied,  but 
troubled.  I  have  something  on  my  mind  that  I  can 
bear  no  longer;  it  relates  to  the  Fergusons." 

She  gave  him  the  will  of  Robert  Ferguson,  and 
the  letter  of  her  aunt,  which  she  had  carried  about 
with  her,  wishing,  yet  not  daring,  to  speak  of  their 
contents.  "  Read  these,"  she  added,  "  and  tell  me  what 
ought  to  be  done?" 

They  had  reached  the  door  of  the  farm-house;  the 
Judge  hobbled  out  to  meet  them. 

"  Ah,  Judge,"  said  Gregory,  jumping  from  the 
chaise,  and  lifting  his  companion  after  him,  "  how 's 
'  these  rhumatiz '  ?  " 

"  Much  after  the  old  sort,  —  goin'  and  comin,' "  re- 
plied the  old  man,  opening  the  door  into  a  cool  parlor, 
comfortably  furnished.  "  I  specs  you  can  jist  take  care 


A    VISIT    TO    OAK    BAY.  353 

of  yoursels,  for  Mr.  Chauncey  has  gone  down  to  mill, 
and  won't  be  back  these  three  hours.  I  declare,"  he 
added,  as  Agatha  walked  across  the  room,  to  raise 
the  curtain,  "  how  that  little  mite  of  a  gal  has  growd 
to  be  the  prettiest  sort !  And  I  guess  I  beant  the 
only  one  as  thinks  so;  at  any  rate,  I  knows  one  as 
agrees  with  me,"  he  added,  shuffling  out  of  the  room, 
carefully  closing  the  door  after  him. 

"  Why  not  look  at  these  papers  now  ?  "  said  Gregory, 
drawing  a  little  table  near  the  sofa,  and  putting  out 
his  hand  for  Agatha  to  sit  by  him.  She  took  her 
seat,  and  gave  a  detailed  account  of  the  way  in  which 
the  papers  came  into  her  possession. 

Gregory  did  not  speak  till  he  had  carefully  read  the 
papers,  and  listened  to  the  recital.  Then  he  brought 
his  hand  forcibly  down  upon  the  table,  and  said,  in  a 
very  decided  tone,  "Indeed,  something  should  be  done, 
and  somebody  must  know  more  of  this  business.  I 
am  afraid  there  may  be  truth  in  the  report  that  Tom 
Ridgway  was  not  perfectly  upright  in  the  settlement 
of  the  Scottish  estate.  Probably  there  was  very  little 
effort  to  discover  the  lost  son  and  brother.  You  were 
with  your  aunt  when  she  died,  Agatha?" 


354  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  No,  Gregory,  Miss  Morgan  —  Mrs.  Clement  I 
mean  —  was  with  her." 

"  I  must  see  her,  then,  he  replied,  "  and  talk  with 
Mr.  Ferguson,  before  I  proceed  to  the  law.  Agatha," 
he  added  earnestly,  "  this  will  make  you  less  rich, 
but  far  more  happy.  I  rejoice  in  the  native  strength 
of  character  that  led  you  to  see  the  right,  and  act 
upon  it  so  understandingly.  I  cannot  but  be  thankful, 
too,  that  we  may  be  the  honored  instruments  whereby 
so  worthy  a  family  shall  be  restored  to  their  rightful 
inheritance." 


UNWELCOME    VISITORS.  355 


CHAPTER    XLIV. 

UNWELCOME  VISITORS. 

"  Curse  the  tongue 

Whence  slanderous  rumor,  like  the  adder's  drop, 
Distils  her  venom,  withering  friendship's  faith, 
Turning  love's  favor." 

HlLLHOUSE. 

ON  HER  return  to  Maple  Cliff  from  Oak  Bay, 
Agatha  found  on  the  table  the  cards  of  Miss 
Winchester  and  the  brothers.  Her  feelings  had  been 
excited  by  the  events  of  the  morning,  more  than  all 
by  the  discovery  she  had  made  of  the  secret  of  her 
heart;  therefore  it  came  that,  when  she  saw  the  cards, 
she  gave  way  to  what  young  girls  call  "a  good  cry." 
She  was  still  in  tears,  when  Honora  came  down  from 
the  sick-room.  Agatha  pointed  to  the  cards. 

"  How  shall  I  act  ? "  she  said,  putting  her  arms 
about  Honora's  neck. 

"As  a  Christian  lady,"  whispered  Honora. 


356  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

"  Honora,  dear,"  said  Agatha,  after  a  pause,  "  do 
you  think  I  should  invite  them  to  come  here?" 

"I  do  not  see  any  necessity  for  that.  Indeed,  in  the 
present  state  of  things  here,  I  think  they  would  prefer 
the  hotel.  Perhaps  my  father  may  wish  to  invite  them 
to  Woodland." 

Miss  Clarendon,  ignorant  of  the  unwomanly  conduct 
of  Miss  Winchester  towards  her  brother,  inquired  of 
her  father,  in  Gregory's  presence,  whether  he  wished 
to  invite  the  Winchesters  to  partake  of  the  hospital- 
ities of  their  cottage.  She  observed  at  once  a  change 
in  her  brother's  countenance,  —  the  dark  look  that  came 
but  seldom,  and  argued  a  depth  of  feeling,  she  did 
not  care  to  arouse.  Colonel  Clarendon  was  on  the  point 
of  walking  out,  and  simply  said,  "  As  you  please,  my 
daughter." 

"What  troubles  you,  brother?"  said  Honora,  coming 
near  him.  "Is  anything  amiss?" 

His  look  into  her  calm  face  was  like  a  flash  of 
lightning. 

"  If  Isabelle  Winchester  comes  here,  I  must  leave ! " 
he  said,  in  a  severe  tone.  "However,  if  you  wish  it, 
that  is  an  easy  matter." 


UNWELCOME    VISITORS.  357 

He  had  rarely  spoken  in  this  way  to  his  sister.  He 
was  vexed  that  the  Winchesters  had  come,  thus  un- 
bidden, where  they  were  not  wanted;  and  not  a  little 
annoyed,  that  Honora  had  forgotten  all  the  tricks  and 
arts  of  Isabelle  on  her  former  visit,  though  he  well 
knew  that  her  crowning  act  of  boldness  was  a  secret 
in  his  own  bosom. 

"Forgive  me,  sister,"  lie  said,  after  a  pause,  as  he 
looked  at  Honora's  sad  face;  "I  was  hasty.  You  do 
not  know  all,  or  you  would  not  perhaps  wonder  — " 

"I  wonder  at  nothing,"  she  replied,  in  a  low,  sor- 
rowful voice,  "  but  that  my  brother  should  suffer  his 
temper  to  get  the  better  of  his  reason." 

"  Honora,"  said  Gregory,  rising,  "  you  do  not  know 
Isabelle  Winchester.  She  is  an  artful,  designing  woman, 
more  unprincipled  than  you,  with  your  pure,  truthful 
nature,  can  conceive;  and  I  feel  that  her  coming  here 
now,  after  what  has  passed,  would  compromise  my  rep- 
utation as  a  man,  to  say  nothing  of  my  name  as  one 
who  has  in  view  the  sacred  ministry.  I  did  wrong  to 
speak  to  you  hastily.  The  rash  temper  which  my 
mother  gave  me  made  me  forget  myself.  Forgive  me, 
sister." 


358       .       THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MAEY. 

The  kiss  of  forgiveness  was  sealed,  and  Honora 
went  out,  not  knowing  exactly  what  to  do,  but  certain 
that  neither  sense  of  obligation,  nor  any  other  motive, 
must  make  Isabelle  a  guest  at  Woodland  Bluff. 

No  rules  of  etiquette  bound  Miss  Winchester  where 
her  will  was  concerned,  and  next  morning,  before  Aga- 
tha had  exchanged  her  wrapper  for  a  proper  dress, 
she  came  running  in  quite  unceremoniously.  She  was 
all  day  at  Maple  Cliff,  and  Gregory,  in  his  usual  after- 
noon call,  found  not  only  herself,  but  her  brothers,  with 
Agatha.  He  greeted  them  with  cold  politeness,  and 
went  away  without  once  changing  his  grave  looks. 

He  overtook  Dudley  Winchester  at  night,  as  he 
strolled  down  to  see  his  friend  Robert.  They  came 
together  at  the  first  landing,  when  Clarendon  paused, 
and,  looking  the  young  man  in  the  face,  he  said,  "  Ex- 
cuse me,  Dudley,  for  the  liberty ;  but  I  feel  constrained 
to  ask,  do  you  seek  to  be  to  Stella  Ferguson  more 
than  a  common  acquaintance  ?  " 

Dudley  replied,  in  a  manly  tone,  "  I  would  not  bear 
that  question  from  any  other  man,  Clarendon,  but  I 
know  you  are  friendly  to  both  of  us.  I  have  never 
forgotten  Stella." 


UNWELCOME    VISITORS.  359 

Gregory  did  not  move;  he  marked  figures  with  his 
cane  upon  the  sandy  beach.  At  length  he  spoke  very 
gravely:  "The  Fergusons  are  very  poor,  Dudley,  but 
honest  and  well  educated.  I  cannot  see  why  the 
daughters  should  not  be  sought  by  any  gentleman ; 
but  your  father  might  think  differently." 

"  I  am  free  to  make  my  own  choice,"  replied  the 
young  man,  "and  Stella  shall  be  my  wife,  if  I  can 
gain  her  consent." 

"  Good  success  to  you,"  said  Gregory,  taking  up  the 
oars ;  "  I  like  your  spirit,  and  admire  your  choice.  I 
only  wished  to  be  assured  of  the  honesty  of  your  pur- 
pose." 

"You  do  not  know  Stella,"  replied  Dudley,  a  little 
haughtily,  "  or  you  would  not  have  said  that" 
***** 

"  So,  my  brother !  you  have  really  offered  your  hand 
in  lawful  marriage  to  this  girl,  —  this  Stella !  " 

The  tones  were  tho.se  of  Isabelle  Winchester,  —  bitter 
sarcasm,  mingled  with  careless  indifference.  She  sat  at 
the  window  of  her  private  parlor,  in  the  only  hotel  of 
which  Rockridge  could  boast.  The  windows  overlooked 
the  road  leading  direct  to  "Woodland  Bluff  and  Maple 


360  THE     CHAPEL     OP     ST.     MARY. 

Cliff.  The  entrance  avenues  of  both  estates  were  in 
full  view  to  Isabelle,  as  she  sat  lazily  cutting  the  leaves 
of  a  new  French  novel.  Dudley  did  not  reply  to  her 
speech.  Just  then  he  cared  very  little  for  all  the  world 
save  one. 

"  Do  you  know  what  you  've  done  ?  "  continued  his 
sister,  turning  round  angrily  towards  him. 

"  Who  was  her  father?    Who  was  her  mother? 
Had  she  a  sister?  or  had  she  a  brother?" 

"Isabelle,"  said  Dudley,  more  calmly  than  might 
have  been  expected,  "let  Stella's  parentage  be  what 
it  may,  I  seek  not  to  marry  her  parents  or  relatives." 

"Affectingly  romantic!"  replied  Isabelle ;  "but  I 
doubt  if  my  aristocratic  father  will  be  willing  to  give 
his  name  to  one  whom  Gregory  Clarendon  picked  out 
of  the  streets  of  New  York,  and  who  has  been  linked 
in  the  public  papers  with  a  notorious  blackleg." 

"Isabelle,  you  are  malicious  as  the  — " 

He  did  not  stay  to  finish  his  complimentary  speech, 
but  rushed  out,  pale  with  rage.  On  the  stairs  he  met 
Duncan,  but  he  drew  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and  passed 
on  without  a  word. 

"  What  have  you  done  to  Dudley  ?  "  said  the  brother 
to  Isabelle. 


UNWELCOME    VISITORS.  361 

"  O,  nothing,"  she  replied,  carelessly ;  "  only  asking 
after  his  lady-love.  He  has  really  shown  himself  a 
man  before  you,  Duncan.  Faint  heart  never  wins." 

"  No,  not  faint  heart,  sister,"  he  replied,  "  but  an 
impenetrable  barrier  of  reserve.  Agatha  is  more  dis- 
tant than  ever ;  and  I  begin  to  think  Clarendon  has 
secured  the  prize  by  a  system  of  privateering." 

"  Gregory  Clarendon ! "  said  Isabelle,  flushing  crim- 
son. "  Never !  He  shall  never  marry  Agatha  Doug- 
lass!" 

"  How  unfortunate  this  illness  of  Mr.  Douglass  proves 
for  both  of  us ! "  said  the  brother,  with  a  sigh. 

The  color  grew  deeper  on  Isabelle's  face,  then  faded 
away  in  a  sallow  paleness,  as  she  said,  bitterly,  "  Yes, 
unfortunate  that  I  cannot  victimize  myself  to  carry  out 
my  plans !  What  do  you  suppose,  Duncan,  was  my 
motive  in  engaging  to  marry  this  miserable  old  man  ?  " 

"  Riches  ?  "   said  Duncan. 

"  Poh  !   try  again  !     That  is  too  commonplace." 

"  An  old  man's  darling,"  suggested  he. 

"  Darling  !  "  she  said,  bitterly  ;  "  I  am  not  that  fool ! 
I  wished  to  be  near  Gregory  Clarendon,  —  to  make 
him  feel  my  influence,  —  to  force  him  to  acknowledge 
16 


362  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.'  MARY. 

my  power,  —  to  give  you  Agatha,  to  —  Is  there 
nothing  we  can  do,"  she  added,  in  a  low,  revengeful 
tone,  — "  nothing  we  can  do  to  thwart  them  ?  " 

The  young  man  leaned  his  head  thoughtfully  on  his 
hands.  Then  passed  through  his  mind  plans,  of  wlu'ch 
a  few  were  simply  ridiculous,  and  others  fearfully 
wicked.  Isabelle  too  gave  herself  up  to  plotting  and 
replotting,  till  her  busy  brain  grew  faint,  and  her  heart 
sick.  Thus  this  worldly  pair  spent  the  hours  as  they 
went  by,  in  contemplating  the  manner  in  which  they 
would  accomplish  their  own  objects,  and  gain  their 
own  ends,  forgetting  that  "man  appoints,  but  God  dis- 
appoints." 


GREGORY'S    STORY.  363 


CHAPTER    XLV. 

GREGORY'S    STORY. 

"  Lord,  what  a  change  within  us  one  short  hour 
Spent  in  thy  presence  will  avail  to  make! 
We  kneel,  how  weak !  we  rise,  how  full  of  power ! 
Why  therefore  should  we  do  ourselves  this  wrong, 
Or  others,  —  that  we  are  not  always  strong, — 
That  we  are  ever  overborne  with  care, — 
That  we  should  ever  weak  or  heartless  be, 
Anxious  or  troubled,  —  when  with  us  is  prayer, 
And  joy,  and  strength  and  courage  are  with  Thee  T " 

TRENCH. 
"  I  will  cling 

To  the  fixed  hope  that  there  will  come  a  time 
When  we  can  meet  unfettered,  and  be  blest 
With  the  full  happiness  of  certain  love." 

PKRCTVAL. 

MR.  CLEMENT  had  received  Agatha's  desire  for 
baptism  joyfully,  led  her  through  the  maze  that 
had  been  cast  over  her  spiritual  vision  at  St.  Anne's, 
and  appointed  an  early  day  for  that  event,  so  long 
looked  forward  too  with  trembling  fear.  At  the  quiet 
hour  of  sunset  she  stood  at  the  chapel  font,  waiting 


364  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

for  those  solemn  words,  and  that  sign  and  seal,  that 
were  to  convey  to  her  such  great  blessings.  Why  she 
had  come  to  this  lowly  chapel  to  receive  this  sacra- 
ment, those  whom  she  loved  best  had  not  asked. 

But  how  was  Isabelle  employed  during  this  solemn 
hour.  She  had  watched  the  departure  of  each  group ; 
and,  as  Papsy,  who  had  gone  to  be  present  soul  and 
body  with  her  "  little  missis,"  disappeared  down  the 
Gorge,  Miss  "Winchester  quietly  passed  over  to  Maple 
Cliff,  and  proceeded  unmolested  to  the  chamber  of  Mr. 
Douglass.  He  was  more  rational  than  he  had  been 
for  some  weeks ;  he  welcomed  her  with  a  silly  laugh, 
and  with  the  familiarity  of  a  lover.  She  could  hardly 
hide  her  disgust;  but  she  had  an  end  to  gain. 

After  many  attempts  to  speak  to  him  of  Agatha  and 
Clarendon,  she  succeeded  in  making  him  understand 
that  Gregory  sought  only  the  heiress ;  that  he  was 
looking  forward  to  the  time  when  he  should  be  sole 
proprietor  of  Maple  Cliff.  Desperate  she  was,  or  she 
would  not  have  dared  to  play  such  a  game  with  a 
dying  man. 

Agatha,  on  her  return  from  church,  found  her  uncle, 
whom  she  had  left  quiet,  raging  like  a  caged  lion. 


GREGORY'S    STORY.  365 

He  denounced  her  in  the  most  awful  terms ;  took  her 
savagely  by  the  arm ;  and,  grinning  with  his  ghastly 
lips,  cursed  Gregory  Clarendon  with  frightful  curses, 
,and  called  down  eternal  maledictions  on  her  head  if 
she  listened  to  his  addresses.  He  commanded  her  to 
send  at  once  for  Ridgway,  that  he  might  alter  his  will, 
and  cut  her  off  with  nothing,  unless  she  would  take  an 
oath  that  she  would  never  marry  Gregory  Clarendon. 
As  she  went,  pale  and  trembling,  to  execute  tliis  com- 
mand, Isabelle  followed. 

"  What  can  have  come  over  Mr.  Douglass  ? "  she 
said,  trying  to  put  her  arm  about  Agatha's  neck.  "I 
never  saw  him  so  furious." 

Agatha  drew  back  and  looked  at  Isabelle  without 
speaking. 

"  I  would  n't  send  for  Ridgway,"  added  her  tormen- 
tor, coaxingly ;  "  your  uncle  will  get  over  it  in  a  few 
moments." 

"Miss  Winchester!"  said  Agatha,  curbing  the  indig- 
nation that  was  burning  in  her  bosom,  "I  am  mistress 
here  at  present !  " 

Ridgway  was  out  of  town,  and  Agatha  despatched  a 
special  messenger  for  the  Doctor.  Isabelle  talked  pri- 


366  THE    CHAPEL    OF     ST.    MARY. 

vately  with  the  physician,  and  thought  he  should  urge 
Agatha  to  make  the  promise  her  uncle  required;  it 
would  quiet  him,  and  of  course,  under  the  circum- 
stances, would  not  be  binding.  Agatha  said  plainly, 
that  he  must  forbid  Miss  Winchester's  attendance  in 
her  uncle's  room.  The  dapper  little  man  was  much 
puzzled.  He  looked  at  the  matter  scientifically,  enter- 
tained the  ladies  with  a  long  dissertation  on  disease  as 
it  was,  and  as  it  is,  ending  in  general  directions  about 
quiet,  &c.,  &c.,  and  soothed  the  old  man  with  a  sopo- 
rific. 

When  all  was  still,  the  Winchesters  gone,  and  the 
household  at  rest,  Agatha  stole  down  to  the  library 
sofa,  and  gave  vent  to  her  feelings  in  bitter  weeping. 
Papsy  came  softly  in,  and  kneeled  at  her  mistress's 
feet. 

"  Little  missis,  commit  thy  way  unto  the  Lord. 
He  shall  deliver  thee  from  the  snare  of  the  hunter." 

"  We  will  never  both  leave  him  again,"  said  Agatha, 
sadly.  "  Do  you  think  he  will  remember  those  awful 
curses  when  he  wakes  ?  "  she  added,  putting  her  hands 
to  her  ears  as  if  the  sound  still  lingered  there. 

"  Curses,  like  chickens,  go  home  to  roost,"  replied 
Papsy. 


GREGORY'S     STORY.  367 

"  What  can  Isabella  Winchester  want  ?  "  said  Agatha, 
after  she  had  become  somewhat  composed.  "  What 
can  be  her  object  in  making  such  disturbance  ? " 

"  Wants  to  marry  Mr.  Gregory  herself,"  replied  the 
girl. 

"  But  Papsy,  Mr.  Clarendon  does  not  care  for  her," 
said  Agatha,  a  deep  blush  overspreading  her  features. 
"  It  cannot  be  !  "  she  added,  eagerly.  "  How  could  she 
engage  herself  to  my  uncle,  if  she  loves  Gregory 
Clarendon  ?  " 

"  Little  missis  don't  know  much  about  wicked  folks,  — 
wicked  women,  wicked  men,"  she  whispered,  with  emo- 
'tion,  her  thoughts  evidently  going  back  to  her  own 
sad  history. 

"0  what  a  dreadful  world!"  said  Agatha,  with  a 
sigh, 

"  But  the  good  Lord  has  overcome  it  for  us  !  "  replied 
Papsy,  reverentially. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Douglass  awoke  strangely 
oblivious  to  all  late  occurrences.  Mr.  Clement  had 
come  in,  as  he  did  daily,  for  prayers.  Agatha  sat  by 
her  uncle,  and  Papsy  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 
Suddenly  Mr.  Douglass  seized  the  arm  of  his  niece, 


368  THE    CHAPEL     OF    ST.    MAEY. 

and,  looking  her  fiercely  in  the  face,  said  to  her  in 
the  tone  that  had  so  often  chilled  the  life-blood  of  the 
departed :  "  I  tell  you  again  —  yes,  yes  —  the  mixed 
races,"  he  added,  with  a  savage  laugh.  "  I  shall  fetch 
her  here  for  you  to  bring  up:  the  boy  Chet  may 
look  out  for  himself,  but  Papsy  I  must  take,  or  she 
will  go  on  the  town."  His  voice  had  risen  and  his 
grasp  had  become  so  powerful,  as  he  proceeded,  that 
Mr.  Clement  was  obliged  to  interfere,  and  take  Aga- 
tha from  him.  Papsy  kept  her  position,  like  a  bronze 
statue ;  but  with  earnest  gaze  she  drank  in  every  word. 
Slowly  the  truth  dawned  •  on  Agatha's  mind,  —  the  mys- 
tery of  Papsy's  life  was  explained. 

As  the  clergyman  went  through  the  shrubbery,  he 
met  Gregory,  on  his  way  to  the  house. 

"  Clarendon,"  he  said,  "  it  is  dreadful  that  Agatha 
should  be  subjected  to  hearing  the  details  of  such  a  life 
as  Mr.  Douglass  has  led."  He  then  recounted  the 
scene  of  the  morning. 

"  I  am  almost  wicked  enough  to  wish  death  would 
put  an  end  to  it,"  said  Gregory.  "  I  am  going  now  to 
take  Agatha  for  a  walk.  She  will  lose  her  health  if 
this  anxiety  and  confinement  continue  much  longer." 


GREGORY'S    STORY.  369 

The  first  glance  told  the  sufferings  of  the  past  night 
and  the  present  day. 

"Agatha,  my  precious  one,  how  you  are  troubled!" 
said  Gregory,  drawing  her  towards  him.  "  Do  you  feel 
equal  to  a  walk  over  the  hill  ? " 

They  took  the  way  above  Maple  Cliff,  over  the 
high  bluff  beyond.  It  had  ever  been  a  favorite  ramble 
with  Agatha,  in  the  days  when  she  and  Papsy  ran 
wild  together.  On  the  very  summit  of  the  hill  was  a 
clear,  glassy  lake,  shut  in  by  a  grove  of  pines,  except  on 
the  side  towards  Mr.  Douglass's  dwelling.  From  there, 
the  eminence  overlooked  the  estates  of  Mr.  Douglass 
and  Colonel  Clarendon,  and  the  village  and  valley 
beyond.  It  was  a  difficult  ascent,  and  had  never  been 
made  easier,  because  the  proprietor  did  not  wish  it  to 
be  accessible.  It  belonged  to  Mr.  Douglass's  farm,  and 
the  fountains  about  his  grounds  were  supplied  by  the 
crystal  waters  found  there.  Agatha,  worn  by  excite- 
ment, could  not  trip  over  the  rocky  pathway,  as  she 
had  done  in  bygone  days.  She  was  entirely  out  of 
breath,  and  glad  to  reach  a  rude  kind  of  seat  which  her 
brother  had  prepared  for  her  in  her  earlier  rambles. 
The  day  was  clear  and  bright,  the  opening  day  of 
16*  x 


370  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

Autumn.  The  first  flush  of  autumnal  beauty  had 
tinted  the  maples  about  the  family  dwelling;  all  else 
wore  the  greenness  of  Spring.  The  waters  of  the 
river,  far  below,  made  a  silver  line  of  light  among  the 
green  fields  and  bare,  rugged  rocks,  and  dancing  leaves 
dimpled  the  surface  of  the  little  lake. 

Clarendon  sat  down  by  Agatha,  and,  gently  laying 
her  head  on  his  shoulder,  bade  her  listen  to  a  story. 
She  innocently  obeyed ;  but  only  a  few  choice  sen- 
tences had  been  spoken,  before  she  dropped  her  eye- 
lids and  strove  to  hide  her  burning  blushes.  The  story 
was  well  told,  and  the  speaker  waited  a  reply ;  but 
it  did  not  come. 

"  Will  you  not  tell  me,  Agatha,"  he  said  earnestly,  — 
"  will  you  not  tell  me  if  my  love  is  returned,  —  if 
you  will  be  mine  ?  " 

Courage  came  back  to  her,  when  she  heard  how  the 
shadow  of  a  doubt  made  his  voice  tremulous,  and  look- 
ing up  confidingly,  placing  her  hand  in  his,  she  whis- 
pered, "  Gregory,  I  will  never  be  another's,  but  — 
but,"  she  continued,  hesitatingly,  "you  must  hear  my 
story  now ;  and  I  have  such  faith  in  your  teachings 
that  I  know  you  will  help  me  look  only  at  the  rigid" 


GREGORY'S    STORY.  371 

She  then  recounted  to  him  the  history  of  the  last 
evening,  repeating  with  lips  that  paled  at  the  remem- 
brance, the  awful  curses  of  her  uncle,  if  she  listened 
to  his  love.  The  part  that  Isabelle  had  acted  could 
not  be  concealed,  though  Agatha  strove  to  leave  her 
uncondemned.  When  she  spoke  of  Isabelle  and  her 
doings,  he  frowned  and  bit  his  lip. 

"  Would  you  rather  not  hear  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said,  while  a  flash  of  anger  kindled  his 
dark  eye.  "I  am  indignant  that  one  so  good  and  pure 
should  come  in  contact  with  such  fiendish  wickedness 
as  dwells  in  the  heart  of  Isabelle  Winchester.  —  Please 
go  on,  dearest,"  he  added,  soothingly,  "  I  am  impatient." 

"Indeed,"  she  replied,  "I  have  finished  my  story. 
I  only  wish  you  to  tell  me  if —  if  I  can  give  you  the 
promise  you  ask,  and  which,"  she  added,  blushing,  "I 
would  willingly  give,  without  practical  disobedience  to 
my  uncle's  authority  !  " 

There  was  a  pause,  —  an  evident  struggle. 

"  We  may  safely  wait,"  said  Gregory,  when  he  could 
command  himself.  "  No  vows  or  protestations  can  make 
us  more  truly  one.  I  will  ask  no  promise  from  you 
till  I  claim  you  at  the  hand  of  God's  minister  as  my 


372  THE     CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

wife.  Till  then  be  to  me  the  same  simple,  warm- 
hearted girl  you  were  when  I  bore  you  in  my  arms 
from  a  watery  grave,  and  I  shall  be  satisfied." 

She  again  placed  her  hand  confidingly  in  his,  telling 
him,  as  she  had  always  told  him,  the  inmost  thoughts 
of  her  heart 

To  her  were  confided  Gregory's  plans  for  future 
usefulness.  To  her  love  and  confidence  were  given 
thoughts  —  treasured  thoughts  —  that  had  never  sought 
the  light  of  human  sympathy.  It  was  hardly  noonday 
when  they  left  Maple  Cliff,  but  the  evening  mists  en- 
veloped the  landscape  before  they  retraced  their  steps. 
Gregory  did  not  even  confide  his  joy  to  Honora. 
Like  a  miser,  he  treasured  each  look,  and  word,  and 
the  touch  of  that  gentle  hand  that  held  his  destiny. 


MERITED    WRATH.  373 


CHAPTER      XLVI. 

MERITED  WRATH. 

"  What  profits  us,  that  we  from  Heaven  derive 
A  soul  immortal,  and  with  looks  erect 
Survey  the  stars,  if,  like  the  brutal  kind, 
We  follow  where  our  passions  lead  the  way." 

"  God  hath  two  families  of  love, 
In  earth  below  and  heaven  above; 
One  is  in  battle  sharp  and  sore, 
And  one  is  happy  evermore." 

fTHHE  BUSINESS  affairs  relating  to  the  letter  and 
J_  will  that  Agatha  had  so  providentially  discov- 
ered engrossed  much  of  Clarendon's  time  and  atten- 
tion. He  had  put  the  matter,  at  length,  into  the  hand 
of  a  lawyer  in  a  neighboring  town,  having  gained  ne- 
cessary information  from  Mr.  Ferguson  and  Mrs.  Clem- 
ent. About  a  week  after  the  important  event  recorded 
in  the  close  of  the  last  chapter,  he  was  called  out  of 
town  to  attend  to  this  business.  They  were  long  days 


374  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

to  Agatha,  the  days  of  his  absence.  Isabelle  ceased 
not  to  persecute  her,  coming  every  morning,  and,  in 
her  blandest  manner,  asking  for  Mr.  Douglass ;  but 
since  the  dreadful  disturbance  she  had  caused  in  the 
sick-room,  Papsy  kept  close  watch,  and  she  was  never 
again  permitted  entrance  there.  Papsy  was  unwearied 
in  her  attendance,  day  and  night,  and  when  Agatha 
begged  her  to  take  rest,  she  would  say,  "No,  little 
missis,  Papsy  can  do  it  all  now." 

The  third  day  after  Gregory's  departure,  Agatha  left 
Isabelle,  who  had  been  all  day  at  Maple  Cliff,  and 
walked  out  to  seek  rest  and  refreshment.  Rosa's  young- 
est babe  had  been  very  ill,  and  she  took  the  road  to 
the  castle,  walking  leisurely,  enjoying  the  beauties  of 
the  foliage,  dyed  afresh  by  the  rays  of  a  gorgeous 
sunset.  Her  heart,  that  had  been  ruffled  by  the  ill- 
omened  presence  of  Isabelle,  was  calmed.  Her  call  at 
the  castle  was  hurried  by  the  lateness  of  the  hour; 
but  more,  perhaps,  by  the  information  that  Rosa  gave, 
"  that  Chet  had  gone  to  the  cars  to  fetch  Mr.  Greg- 
ory." 

She  had  passed  the  first  patch  of  woods  on  her 
homeward  way,  and  entered  the  grove  that  skirted  the 


MERITED    WRATH.  375 

chapel,  when  she  was  startled  by  the  figure  of  a  man, 
leaning  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree.  She  comforted 
herself  with  the  probability  that  it  might  be  Mr.  Clem- 
ent, but  a  nearer  view  showed  her  mistake. 

"  Good  evening,  Miss  Agatha,"  said  the  voice  of 
Duncan  Winchester.  "  Chance  has  given  me  the  op- 
portunity I  have  been  seeking  these  two  weeks." 

He  approached,  and  drew  her  arm  within  his. 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you,"  he  continued.  "  Do 
you  know  that  I  love  you  with  an  intensity  that  defies 
control,  and  you  will  not  give  me  the  privilege  of  a 
man,  and  suffer  me  to  throw  myself  at  your  feet.  You 
hardly  allow  me  to  be  civil." 

"  When  you  cease  to  talk  of  love,"  said  Agatha, 
haughtily  withdrawing  her  arm,  "and  confine  yourself 
to  proper  subjects  of  conversation,  I  may  listen." 

"  But  you  shall  listen,"  he  said,  taking  both  her 
hands  in  one  of  his,  and  tightly  grasping  her  arm  with 
the  other.  "  Gregory  Clarendon  saved  your  life,  and 
he  demands  in  return  what  is  dearer  to  me  than  h'fe. 
He  is  a  knave,  and  — " 

"  I  will  not  hear  it,"  said  Agatha,  turning  away  her 
face,  and  uttering  a  faint  cry. 


376  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

The  next  instant,  Chet,  who  was  on  his  return  home, 
and  had  heard  from  the  cliff  below  the  last  words  of 
Duncan,  and  the  exclamation  that  followed,  sprung  for- 
ward, and  held  the  young  brute  by  the  collar,  unloos- 
ing his  grasp  from  the  arm  of  Agatha. 

"  Coward ! "  muttered  Chet,  "  you  shall  not  go  un- 
punished ; "  —  and  holding  Winchester  in  his  powerful 
grip,  he  gave  the  young  man  a  thorough  castigation 
with  his  own  riding-whip.  It  was  the  last  time  Dun- 
can Winchester  was  seen  in  Rockridge. 

Agatha  rested  in  the  chapel  porch,  endeavoring  to 
compose  herself,  while  Chet  stood  in  a  listening  atti- 
tude. 

"  He  is  coming,"  said  Chet ;  "  I  hear  his  carriage- 
wheels.  Mr.  Gregory  is  coming." 

"  I  am  afraid  they  may  meet,"  she  said,  trying  to 
rise,  still  trembling  with  fear. 

"  He  knows  nothing  of  this,"  replied  Chet ;  "  and 
if  the  young  rascal  insults  him,  he  may  possibly  get 
a  second  edition  of  what  I  have  given  him." 

The  wheels  came  nearer,  and  Chet  went  into  the 
road  to  meet  Clarendon.  It  may  be  supposed  he  was 
somewhat  excited  when  he  heard  the  tale.  He  sup- 


MERITED    WRATH.  377 

ported  Agatha  to  the  carriage,  warmly  thanking  Chet 
for  his  opportune  interference.  He  had  gone  at  once 
to  Maple  Cliff;  but  finding  Agatha  out,  had  come  in 
pursuit,  growing  a  little  anxious  as  he  proceeded  with- 
out meeting  her. 

"  My  darling,"  he  said,  as  he  drove  swiftly  through 
the  thick  grove  below  the  chapel,  "you  will  not  ven- 
ture out  without  me,  while  this  impertinent  young  ras- 
cal is  about.  It  is  fortunate  for  both  of  us  that  we 
did  not  meet." 

Agatha  did  not  reply  when  Clarendon  inquired  the 
next  morning  if  she  had  recovered  from  her  fright, 
but,  turning  up  her  loose  sleeve  from  her  fair,  round 
arm,  she  showed  the  print  of  fingers  in  deep  purple 
lines. 

"  Base  coward !  "  muttered  Gregory.  "  I  cannot  be 
too  thankful  he  has  left  town  ;  I  should  be  tempted 
to  do  something,  were  he  here,  that  I  might  regret  in 
calmer  moments." 

"  O,  it  is  nothing,"  replied  Agatha.  "  It  will  be 
well  in  a  day  or  two." 

"  Nothing !  nothing,"  he  said,  "  that  a  person  call- 
ing himself  a  man  should  leave  the  print  of  brute 


378  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

force  on  the  delicate  arm  of  a  woman  !  Think  of 
living  one's  life  with  such  a  man !  Of  being  his  wife  !" 

Agatha  shuddered  as  he  spoke,  remembering  that 
this  fate  her  uncle  had  sought  for  her. 

"  Gregory,"  she  said,  after  a  pause,  speaking  a  little 
timidly,  "  I  could  not  sleep,  thinking  of  those  blows. 
Was  it  quite  right  for  Chet  to  strike  him  ? " 

"  My  precious,  Christian  child,"  he  replied  earnestly, 
"you  have  gone  further  than  I  in  your  heavenward 
course.  Can  you  forgive  this  wanton  brutality  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  he  meant  to  hurt  me  so  much,"  she 
said,  as  if  thinking  rather  than  speaking ;  "  only  his 
temper  rose  beyond  his  control,  because  I  would  not 
listen  to  his  words ;  and  you  know,"  she  added,  shading 
her  eyes  with  her  hand,  and  speaking  very  low, "  I 
can  pity  those  who  have  ungoverned  tempers." 

"  You  are  more  'charitable,  dearest,  than  I,"  replied 
Gregory.  "  I  have  reason  to  think  his  course  was 
premeditated.  He  intended  to  frighten  you  into  listen- 
ing to  his  suit," 

They  were  interrupted  by  Mr.  Clement,  who  came 
with  a  summons  for  them  to  attend  the  wedding  of 
Catherine  and  Chauncey.  Robert  had  failed  rapidly  for 


MERITED    WRATH.  379 

the  last  day  or  two,  and  was  desirous  the  marriage 
ceremony  should  take  place  before  his  death. 

"  May  I  congratulate  you,  Clarendon  ? "  said  the 
clergyman,  as  Agatha  left  the  room  to  prepare  her- 
self. 

"  We  hope  to  call  upon  you  before  many  weeks  to 
complete  our  happiness,"  replied  Clarendon,  returning 
the  warm  pressure  of  his  hand. 

They  found  the  bridal  party  in  waiting.  Robert, 
upon  his  couch  in  the  adjoining  room,  was  within 
sight  and  sound  of  all  that  passed. 

"  Don't  pray  look  so  mournful,"  whispered  Greg- 
ory, as  he  came  and  stood  by  Agatha.  "  The  whole 
party  is  more  funereal  than  bridal." 

The  ceremony  proceeded ;  they  had  risen  from  their 
knees,  when  Stella,  looking  towards  her  brother,  ut- 
tered a  scream.  His  eyes  were  fixed  and  glassy,  and 
the  clergyman  went  from  the  prayers  for  the  mar- 
ried pair  to  supplication  for  the  dying.  The  bridal 
was  indeed  changed  to  a  funeral. 

The  physician's  chaise  stood  at  the  door  when  Aga- 
tha reached  home,  and  she  hurried  to  her  uncle's 
room.  Life  was  ebbing  away,  and,  as  the  sun  went 


380  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

down  in  a  mass  of  dull  leaden  clouds,  the  soul  of  the 
miserable  old  man  left  the  earthly  tenement- 
Robert,  by  his  own  request,  was  laid  in  the  chapel 
burial-ground,  while  Mr.  Douglass  reposed  in  the  old 
churchyard,  by  the  side  of  her  whose  life  he  had  5m- 
bittered.  Thus  passeth  away  alike,  to  the  eye  of  man, 
the  evil  and  the  good :  let  them  rest.  It  is  not  for 
us  to  lift  the  veil,  —  they  are  in  the  keeping  of  a  just 
and  merciful  Saviour. 

Chauncey  Douglass  proved  himself  son  and  brother 
to  the  bereaved  household,  opening  his  home  and  heart 
to  the  family,  thus  again  leaving  the  Bird's  Nest  un- 
tenanted. 

Mr.  Douglass's  will  was  read,  after  the  funeral,  by 
Tom  Ridgway,  in  the  presence  of  the  friends.  It  left 
his  large  property,  without  limitation  or  legacy  of  any 
kind,  to  his  adopted  child,  "  Agatha  Douglass."  After 
the  reading,  Colonel  Clarendon  rose,  and  in  the  name 
of  Miss  Douglass  stated  the  relationship  existing  between 
her  late  aunt  and  Mr.  Frank  Ferguson,  and  the  claims 
that  gentleman  had  on  the  estate,  with  the  wish  of 
the  heiress,  that  all  that  by  right  was  his  should  be 
restored. 


MERITED    WRATH.  381 

There  was  one  who  followed  among  the  mourners, 
in  long  widow's  weeds.  But  the  tears  she  shed  feign- 
edly  for  the  departed,  were  dropped  to  the  memory 
of  her  own  unsuccessful  machinations.  She  had  been 
outwitted  by  the  dead,  and  the  homestead  of  Maple 
Cliff,  which  Mr.  Douglass  at  their  engagement  as- 
sured her  should  be  hers,  was  in  the  hands  of  Aga- 
tha. She  had  waited  for  this  triumph,  but  it  was  de- 
nied her. 


382  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    XLVII. 

FESTIVAL    OF   ALL    SAINTS. 

"  Who  but  the  Church  can  every  power 

Of  the  true  woman  nurse  to  life, 
Till,  fit  for  every  changeful  hour, 
Is  seen  the  maiden  —  woman  —  wife? 

"  When  the  pale  mother  clasps  her  child, 

And  pats  her  darling  to  its  rest, 
Or  sinks  to  slumber  undefined, 
Her  bride  ring  shining  o'er  her  breast,  — 

"  Again  to  hallow  that  pure  joy, 

Comes  Holy  Church,  and  tells  her  then 
Of  Mary  and  the  Holy  Boy, 
And  claims  the  turtle-doves  again." 

A.  C.  COXB. 

THE  FIRST  day  of  November  proved  to  be  a 
warm,  sunny  day  for  the  season.  Colonel  Clar- 
endon had  just  read  from  the  last  evening's  paper  of 
the  sailing  of  the  Eureka  from  New  York  for  Paris. 
In  the  list  of  passengers  were  Mr.  and  Miss  "Winches- 
ter, and  servant. 


FESTIVAL    OF    ALL    SAINTS.  383 

«  Father,"  said  Gregory,  as  he  took  his  hat  for  hia 
usual  morning  call  at  Maple  Cliff;  "service  at  the 
chapel  this  morning.  You  will  go  ?  " 

•"  Certainly,"  replied  Honora,  surprised  at  the  ques- 
tion. 

There  were  present  at  the  holy  feast  in  the  Chapel 
of  St.  Mary  many  of  the  poor  wanderers  in  the  Gorge, 
who  had  been  brought  in  by  the  indefatigable  labors 
of  Mr.  Clement.  Papsy  took  her  seat  with  the  bou- 
quet she  never  failed  to  bring  for  little  Harry's  grave, 
and  Chet  and  Rosa  had  come  to  offer  thanks  for  the 
restoration  of  their  little  one. 

The  services  of  All-Saints,  always  solemn  and  affect- 
ing, were  unusually  so  on  that  day.  It  might  be  the 
deep  feeling  manifested  in  the  tones  of  the  rector. 
His  wife  was  present  there  for  the  first  time  since  the 
birth  of  her  babe,  to  offer  the  customary  thanksgiving; 
and  he  deeply  felt  the  bond  that  "knit  together  the 
elect  in  one  communion  and  fellowship."  The  inhab- 
itants of  the  Oak-Bay  farm-house  had  been  drawn 
thither  by  the  remembrance  of  a  son  and  brother  who 
had  lately  joined  "  the  innumerable  company  which 
no  man  can  number."  The  congregation  seemed  loath 


384  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

to  rise  from  their  kneeling  posture,  after  the  benedic- 
tion ;  and  they  were  recalled  by  the  voice  of  God's 
minister,  as  he  said :  "  Dearly  beloved,  we  are  gath- 
ered together  here  in  the  sight  of  God  and  this  com- 
pany, to  join  together  this  man  and  this  woman  in 
holy  matrimony." 

Every  one  rose  at  the  words  "  Dearly  beloved." 
Gregory  and  Agatha,  with  Colonel  Clarendon  and  Ho- 
nora  (who  had  caught  the  idea  at  once),  standing  at 
the  chancel  rail.  As  the  benediction  was  pronounced, 
a  pair  of  robins  perched  on  the  sill  of  the  chancel 
window,  and  sung  merrily  in  the  sunshine.  To  Pap- 
sy's  imaginative  nature,  this  was  an  omen  of  every- 
thing pleasant  and  good  for  the  bridal  pair. 

Colonel  Clarendon  was  the  first  to  fold  Agatha  to 
his  heart,  and  whisper,  "  My  daughter."  Gregory  and 
Agatha  returned  to  Woodland  Bluff,  to  dine  with  their 
friends,  and  passed  over  to  Maple  Cliff  in  the  after- 
noon, as  if  that  had  always  been  their  home.  There 
was  no  party,  no  expensive  wedding  presents  or  wed- 
ding dresses,  but  a  quiet  scene  of  domestic  bliss,  the 
choice  of  both. 

"There,"   said  Mrs.  Dobbin,  when   she   heard  of  it, 


FESTIVAL    OF    ALL    SAINTS.  :X~> 

"that  is  just  like  that  girl,  —  never  does  anything  like 
other  folks.  Everybody  knew  that  Clarendon  would 
marry  her  if  he  could,  with  such  a  heap  of  money. 
But  deary  me !  she  's  nothing  but  a  child !  One  of 
those  imprudent  early  marriages." 

Mrs.  Charlotte  Clement  was  much  of  the  same 
mind,  though  she  did  not  express  it  openly.  She 
could  not  resist  telling  Honora,  that  she  thought  Greg- 
ory rather  "  hasty."  "  She  could  not  think  of  Agatha 
as  a  suitable  person  for  a  minister's  wife."  Her  hus- 
band, overhearing  the  remark,  reminded  her  "  that  cler- 
gymen must  be  allowed  to  have  different  tastes,  as 
well  as  other  men." 

The  nine  days'  wonder  of  Clarendon's  sudden  mar- 
riage was  superseded,  in  the  mind  of  the  good  people 
of  Rockridge,  by  the  startling  intelligence  that  Eliza 
Ridgway  and  Ann  Matilda  Dobbin  had  gone,  in  com- 
pany with  the  Romish  priest  from  Ridgeville,  into  the 
Convent  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  in  Canada.  A  letter 
was  found  in  Miss  Eliza's  room,  addressed  to  nobody, 
but  stating  the  fact,  that  this  was  not  a  hasty  step, 
but  taken  after  months  of  deliberation.  It  would  be 
useless,  she  said,  to  look  after  them.  They  sought 
17  T 


386  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

such  a  separation  from  the  world  as  acknowledged  no 
ties  of  blood  or  kindred,  and,  being  both  of  age,  parents 
had  no  control. 

Mr.  Clement  grieved  sorely  lest,  through  his  neglect, 
blindness  had  happened  to  one  of  his  flock ;  but  Colonel 
Clarendon  assured  him  that  the  desire  for  notoriety, 
which  from  childhood  had  been  a  distinguishing  char- 
acteristic of  Miss  Eliza,  was  sufficient  to  lead  one  of 
her  shallowness  to  take  the  step  that  had  fixed  her  for 
life. 

"For  life?"  said  Gregory,  incredulously.  "Who 
knows  but  hi  tune  we  may  have  the  'disclosures  of 
Miss  Eliza  Rldgway,'  bound  in  a  uniform  edition  with 
'  Maria  Monk  '  ?  " 

*  *  #  *  * 

The  third  anniversary  of  Agatha's  wedding-day  was 
a  quiet,  happy  day,  like  their  bridal,  and  yet  not  like 
it.  A  new  tenderness  had  grown  up  in  their  hearts; 
new  ties  had  twined  their  affections  more  closely  to- 
gether. On  the  pale  mother's  breast  rested  two  little 
heads,  and  over  them  stooped  a  fond  father,  who  looked 
at  them  with  wondering  love. 

"  Have  you  thought  of  names,  darling,  for  these  pre- 
cious gifts?"  he  said,  fondly. 


FESTIVAL    OF    ALL    SAINTS.  387 

The  faint  color  came  into  the  mother's  cheek,  as  she 
replied,  "  Have  you  ?  " 

"No,  Aggie,  I  have  really  been  so  anxious  about 
you,  that  these  little  ones  have  hardly  had  their  share 
of  their  father's  attention.  But  tell  me  your  names; 
for  your  sweet,  pale  face  is  just  as  transparent  to  me 
as  the  rosy  one  I  used  to  read." 

Agatha  smiled,  and  then,  looking  thoughtfully  down 
on  her  little  ones,  she  said :  "  Do  you  think  Honora 
would  be  pleased  if  we  call  them  Norman  and  Ho- 
nora?" 

"She  will  be  delighted ;  that  is,  she  ought  to  be," 
said  Gregory,  with  animation. 

"Will  you  ask  her,  dear?"  she  said.  "Norman  may 
be  too  sacred  with  her  for  common  use." 

He  assented,  and  then  they  talked  of  their  baptism, 
and  of  the  deep  and  awful  responsibility  of  their  train- 
ing. 

"  I  could  not  bear  it,  but  for  you  to  help  me,"  whis- 
pered Agatha. 

"  I  am  sure  I  could  not  think  of  it  without  you,"  he 
replied,  tenderly. 


388  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 


CHAPTER    XLVIII. 

CHANGES  AND  CHANCES. 

"A  chance  may  win  what  by  mischance  was  lost; 
The  net  that  holds  no  great  takes  little  fish; 
In  some  things  all,  in  all  things  none  are  crossed; 
Few  all  they  need,  but  none  have  all  they  wish; 
Unmingled  joys  here  to  no  man  befall ; 
Who  least  hath  some,  who  most  hath  never  all." 

ROBERT  SOUTHWELL. 

FROM  THE  time  of  Mr.  Clarendon's  ordination, 
which  took  place  not  long  after  his  marriage, 
the  people  of  the  Gorge  were  under  his  pastoral  care, 
Mr.  Clement  still  retaining  his  position  as  rector  of  the 
old  church.  Gregory  found  an  efficient  helpmeet,  in 
all  his  efforts  for  his  increasing  parish,  in  his  young 
wife.  She  entered  with  her  earnest  nature  into  the 
needs  and  sorrows  of  the  poor  to  whom  he  ministered. 
Mr.  Clarendon  was  summoned,  one  cold  night  in  No- 
vember, to  the  dying  bed  of  a  woman  whom  Chet  had 
found,  in  the  hut  formerly  occupied  by  the  Judge, 


CHANGES  AND  CHANCES.       389 

with   a  young   child   in   her   arms,   both   nearly   dead 
with  cold.. 

The  clergyman  observed  the  hasty  movement  with 
which  the  woman  turned  her  face  away  when  he  ad- 
dressed her,  and  he  recognized,  amid  the  wan  and 
faded  features,  the  lineaments  of  Julia  Ridgway.  He 
spoke  to  her  of  the  mercy  that  never  faileth,  of  the 
rescued  Magdalene  and  the  comforted  outcast,  and  led 
the  weary  soul  to  the  cross  of  Christ  He  drew  from 
her  the  sad  tale  of  her  life.  She  had  fallen  lower 
and  lower  after  her  first  disgrace,  till,  in  some  haunt 
of  the  most  vicious,  she  had  met  Dick  Walbridge.  In 
the  days  of  their  comparative  innocence  he  had  won 
her  affections,  and  there  lingered  around  her  worn  and 
trampled  heart  the  memory  of  that  early  love.  They 
went  through  the  ceremony  of  marriage  before  a  jus- 
tice of  the  peace,  and  she  had  followed  him  faithfully, 
brutal,  degraded  as  he  was,  for  the  last  two  years,  till 
the  hand  of  justice  met  him,  and  Julia  had  closed  his 
dying  eyes  in  the  shelter  of  a  prison.  It  was  in  utter 
despair  that  the  poor  woman  had  sought  her  home, 
not  for  herself,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  helpless  infant 
at  her  breast. 

17* 


390  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

After  the  funeral  of  the  miserable  Julia,  Mr.  Clar- 
endon recommended  the  child  to  the  care  of  its  grand- 
mother ;  but  she  declined  the  charge,  and  the  little  one 
was  left  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  town. 

"  Do  you  notice,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Clarendon  to  her 
husband,  not  long  after  the  burial  of  poor  Julia,  "how 
sorely  Papsy  takes  the  fate  of  this  wretched  woman 
to  heart  ?  Her  countenance  wears  the  mournfully  dis- 
tressed look  it  did  after  Dick  went  away,  when  she 
would  sit  for  days  looking  down  into  the  water  as  if 
she  longed  to  lie  there." 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  said  Clarendon,  smiling ;  "  that 
was  when  I  suffered  most  on  your  account.  But  I  will 
tell  you,  Agatha,"  he  added,  more  gravely,  "what  is 
her  trouble.  This  child  of  Richard's  she  longs  to  adopt 
as  her  own.  Her  romantic  devotion  to  him  is  really 
worthy  of  a  better  cause." 

"And  will  she,  dear  husband?"  said  his  wife,  com- 
ing towards  him,  and  looking  up  earnestly  into  his 
face. 

"She  would  willingly,"  he  replied,  "if  I  thought  it 
best;  and  she  may  as  it  is,  if  she  can  make  up  her 
mind  to  leave  yon." 


CHANGES  AND  CHANCES.       391 

"  Leave  me,  Gregory  !  "  she  said.  "  Why  need  that 
follow  ?  " 

"And  would  my  precious  one  be  willing,"  he  whis- 
pered, drawing  her  towards  him,  "  to  have  the  child 
of  vice,  —  the  child  born  among  the  very  dregs  of 
humanity,  brought  up  with  our  little  ones?" 

"  By  nature  born  in  sin,  even  as  others,"  she  replied, 
musingly.  "  You  will  not  refuse,"  she  said,  putting  her 
arms  about  his  neck,  and  looking  imploringly  into  his 
face.  "The  little  thing  may  be  such  a  comfort  to 
poor  Papsy." 

"  But  my  little  pleader,"  he  said,  solemnly,  "  the  sins 
of  the  fathers  shall  be  visited  upon  the  children." 

"  Yes,  Gregory,"  she  replied,  hesitatingly,  "  but  we 
can  have  the  little  one  made  a  member  of  Christ,  and 
you  can  help  Papsy  to  bring  her  up  as  she  ought. 
And  you  know  the  promises ! "  she  added,  looking  per- 
suasively into  his  eyes. 

"I  cannot  resist  you,  Aggie.     Papsy  shall  have  the 
child,  and  she  shall  carry  her  to  baptism  with  ours." 
***** 

Ten  years  have  passed  over  Rockridge, —  ten  years 
of  change.  The  inhabitants  have  multiplied,  and  busi- 


392*  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

ness  has  increased  rapidly.  Five  large  manufactories 
have  gone  up  below  the  Gorge,  and  already,  with  their 
busy  wheels  and  industrious  operatives,  interrupt  the 
quietude  of  Oak-Bay  farm.  But  Chauncey  Douglass 
has  learned  to  feel  the  bond  of  brotherhood,  and  does 
not  chafe  at  the  intrusion. 

The  chapel  at  the  Gorge  is  filled  to  overflowing 
with  devout  worshippers,  and  the  graveyard  has  spread 
its  peaceful  resting-places  abroad  among  the  sheltering 
forest  trees.  Chefs  castle  is  unmolested.  Time  deals 
kindly  with  its  inmates.  Chet  retains  his  dignity  as 
"  lord  of  the  Gorge,"  and  his  peculiarities ;  but  they  are 
tempered  with  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel.  Aunt  Polly, 
helpless  and  senseless,  has  been  sheltered  and  fed  for 
years  in  the  home  of  Chet,  and  the  blessing  descends 
in  the  docility  and  obedience  of  their  household.  As  we 
come  up  the  Gorge,  which  retains  its  wildness,  though 
more  thickly  settled,  we  notice  the  Bird's  Nest,  where 
it  stands  in  its  shelter  of  old  gnarled  apple-trees.  But 
the  house  is  enlarged,  and  many  dwellings  have  gone 
up  above  and  below  it.  Before  the  low  stoop  swings 
a  sign,  "Valley  Hotel,  J.  Dobbin."  Here  the  Deacon, 
having  met  with  many  reverses  of  fortune,  has  estab- 


CHANGES  AND  CHANCES.       393 

lished  himself,  or  rather  his  wife,  as  innkeeper.  She 
has  succeeded,  since  this  move,  in  making  a  match  for 
one  of  her  girls ;  but  three  remain  on  her  hands.  Here 
Elder  Sparks,  long  past  meridian,  holds  forth,  with  his 
pristine  vehemency,  against  the  "  Scarlet  Lady "  ! 

In  his  exhortations  to  his  people  to  avoid  "  her 
daughter  and  granddaughter,"  he  refers  to  the  exam- 
ple of  Eliza  Ridgway,  who  went  from  the  bosom  of 
one  to  the  embrace  of  the  other,  forgetting  that  Eliza 
was  trained  under  his  teachings,  and  that  his  own  Ann 
Matilda  went  and  did  likewise.  The  Ridgway  family 
have  disappeared  from  Rockridge.  Ridgeville  has  a 
new  owner  and  another  name. 

Tom  has  parted  with  the  pretty  Italian  villa,  and 
lives,  with  his  worldly-minded  companion,  a  thoroughly 
worldly  life  amid  the  din  of  New  York.  The  villa 
has  become  the  summer  residence  of  Dudley  Winches- 
ter. The  General  has  turned  the  affections  of  his 
old  age  around  his  daughter  Stella,  and  they  are  in- 
separable. Isabelle  still  drinks  deep  of  the  draught 
of  pleasure.  Worn,  haggard,  and  gray,  by  the  aid  of 
paints  and  other  artificials  she  is  still  brilliant  in  the 
ball-room.  She  visits  her  brother  Dudley  but  seldom; 


394  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

her  heart  cannot  endure  the  quiet  happiness  that  per- 
vades that  neighborhood.  Duncan  has  sunk  in  a  for- 
eign whirlpool  of  dissipation,  and  will  probably  never 
live  to  see  again  his  native  land. 

Woodland  Bluff  is  more  embowered  than  ever,  ex- 
cept one  window,  on  the  side  toward  Maple  Cliff.  It 
is  the  low  window  of  the  Colonel's  room,  and  many 
little  feet  come  running  through  the  shrubbery  to  see 
"  dear  grandpapa."  "  Aunt  Nora "  lives  her  life  again 
in  the  manly,  brown-eyed  Norman,  and  the  brilliant, 
black-eyed  Honora. 

Maple  Cliff  is  the  same  in  externals.  The  tall  ma- 
ples cast  their  shadows,  and  drop  their  many-colored 
leaves  over  the  roof;  but  within  we  mark  changes. 
The  rooms  are  not  as  stately  and  stiff  in  their  ap- 
pointments as  formerly,  and  the  slates  and  school-books 
about  the  library,  and  the  small  chairs  and  toys  here 
and  there,  speak  of  the  presence  of  childhood.  It  is 
the  hour  for  morning  recitations,  and  the  pupils  are 
assembling.  First  come  the  twins,  always  inseparable, 
and  now  mingling  their  curls  in  a  whispered  conversa- 
tion about  the  celebration  of  the  morrow,  their  birth- 
day. Close  in  their  steps  follows  little  Miss  Agatha, 


CHANGES    AND    CHANCES.  :', '.«.") 

•whom  her  father  designates  as  "my  little  Saxon," — 
her  very  fair  skin  and  deep  blue  eyes  justifying  the 
name.  After  this  little  creature  of  five  summers  walk 
two  persons  whom  we  do  not  at  first  recognize ;  a 
lady,  perhaps  of  twenty-eight  years,  leading  by  the 
hand  a  pale,  pensive  girl  of  eleven.  To  bring  up  the 
rear  come  those  whom  we  cannot  mistake,  —  our  own 
Agatha,  very  lovely  in  her  maturity,  and  her  noble 
husband.  But  why  is  the  mother's  face  pale,  and  her 
dress  of  a  sombre  hue,  a  quiet  sadness  resting  on  her 
brow,  and  reflected  in  the  face  of  her  husband  ?  Why 
is  that  band  of  children  so  noiseless  and  hushed  in 
their  movements?  The  tiny  cross  hi  the  chapel-yard 
tells  the  tale :  the  angels  have  been  there,  and  carried 
away  their  babe,  their  Stella,  —  the  plaything  of  the 
house ;  and  little  Agatha  often  brings  tears  to  the 
mother's  eyes  by  asking,  "  When  will  baby  come 
again  ?  " 

This  is  the  school;  and  the  father,  like  a  true  patri- 
arch, begins  the  daily  instructions  by  invoking  the 
blessing  of  Heaven  upon  them  and  their  teacher. 
That  fair  lady  is  their  teacher.  Have  we  never  seen 
her?  We  shall  surely  know  the  gentle  Anne  Wai- 


396  THE    CHAPEL    OF    ST.    MARY. 

bridge.  There  is  still  one  we  do  not  recognize,  —  that 
girl  of  eleven  years,  slender  and  delicate  as  a  reed, 
with  a  pensive  shadow  on  her  young  face,  whom  Mrs. 
Clarendon  beckons  to  a  seat  near  her.  We  must  ask 
her  name,  although  she  is  well  known  in  Rockridge 
as  "Paps/s  little  Mary." 


THE    END. 


Cambridge  :  Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 


